


The Elmwood Haunting

by sarasaurusrex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Blood and Injury, Brief mention of sexual assault, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Ghost Hunters, Haunted Houses, Heartbreak, Horror, M/M, Major Character Injury (non-permanent), Major Original Character(s), Mystery, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarasaurusrex/pseuds/sarasaurusrex
Summary: Everyone knows there’s something strange about the old house on Elmwood Avenue. Its gruesome history of murder has scared off many families, but not Castiel Shurley. He believes he’s finally found the perfect home for himself and his five children. Twice widowed, Castiel is a physical therapist who doesn’t believe in the paranormal. Nor, Castiel believes, does the local plumber who comes by one sunny Autumn morning to lend a hand—Dean Winchester. But Dean, like the Elmwood house, is not all he seems.Luckily for the Shurley’s, Dean is secretly an amateur ghost hunter who’s been guarding the Elmwood house for years. He’s determined to keep Castiel’s family safe without revealing his true identity to them, so long as he can keep his hands off of Cas. Nothing goes to plan, however, and their accidental relationship is marred by secrets and the supernatural.Unbeknownst to anyone, the legend of the Elmwood house goes much deeper than ghosts and murder. As Castiel and Dean unravel the mystery of what really happened in that house they find themselves facing a generations’ old demon pact and a family legacy of previously unknown supernatural ‘hunters’.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Kelly Kline (Supernatural), Castiel/Meg Masters, Garth Fitzgerald IV/Bess Myers, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 94
Kudos: 124
Collections: DCBB 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy to finally get to share this fic with you, and just in time for Halloween! 🎃👻🦇
> 
> It's my first year doing the [DeanCas Big Bang](https://deancasbigbang.tumblr.com/) and I absolutely loved it! It was one of the few highlights of this crazy year, so I hope you enjoy it, too! 
> 
> I couldn't have asked for a more amazing artist! Whichstiel created all of the art for this fic, and you can check out her masterpost [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964235) and see more of her gorgeous art on tumblr [here](https://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) . Go show her some love!
> 
> And a big thank you to [Fyrexoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitely_not_a_dragon) for beta-ing right from the beginning! I couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> Now, please enjoy this spooky story and have a very supernatural (and safe) Halloween!

Chapter One

Nestled in the forested hills of the American midwest was a small town called Derby, Kansas. Derby was only a half-hour drive from vibrant Wichita, but it retained a sense of small-town community. Children rode bikes around the town square to enjoy the last weekend of summer break, while adults walked up and down Baltimore Avenue to catch an early movie as the town set up for the final week of Garden Fest.

It was common around this time to see out-of-towners in Derby, due to the popular Rock River Rapids aquatic park and the outdoor Field Station, in front of which stood a life-size tyrannosaurus rex, but one unfamiliar SUV stood out among all the others that afternoon. It was an older model, brown SUV, and it had a bright orange moving trailer in tow.

A few streets away from busy Baltimore Avenue, the residents of Elmwood Avenue were tending their lawns. Elmwood was a green, sunny street with grand oak trees and a nearby park. Lilac trees adorned the front yards, making the late summer breeze smell sweet and welcoming.

Unlike most Friday afternoons on Elmwood Avenue, neighbors seemed unable to focus on their outdoor pursuits. There was a curious tension in the air as they kept glancing at the weathered For Sale sign jutting out of number 525. Elmwood had spent the last few days gossiping about who would be their new neighbor as movers came and went out of the large house.

525 was a light blue, two-story home with a large porch, a barn-like garage in the back, and a stone chimney. It backed up against a small wooded area with a path that went to the nearby park. It was a charming house, one of the oldest on Elmwood Avenue, but it had been a long time since anybody lived there.

Local gossip granted the neighbors some insight into the identity of the home’s new owner. According to rumor, it was a single parent who worked in the medical field in nearby Wichita and would be opening up a home office. Neighbors could tell from the furniture carried inside over the past few days that she had several children but not a lot of money. The furniture all looked careworn, although there was no shortage of children’s toys.

So on that sunny, Friday afternoon when the old, brown van finally pulled into 525’s driveway, all of Elmwood poked their heads outside to watch.

The moving trailer jostled to a halt and the van stopped halfway up the drive. Before the engine was even off, two young boys pelted out. One of them had wild, dirty blonde hair and was holding a large, plastic container. He ran straight up to the front porch while the other boy, slightly older with thick black hair and glasses, ran after him as if attached by an invisible leash.

"Charley, Gabe, I said wait!" A man’s voice sounded from around the van.

"Gabe ran out before me, Dad," the older boy called back to his father.

"Liar! Get em, Felix!" The boy named Gabe replied, holding up the plastic container.

The engine turned off at last and the driver’s door slammed shut. A man in his mid to late thirties walked around the van, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. He had the facial lines of a slightly fatigued man, but he seemed gentle and good-natured. He opened the sliding side door while his boys roughhoused over Felix’s container.

A young girl hopped out of the van next. She had long, dirty blonde hair like her brother and piercing blue eyes like her father. She looked up at the house with a long-suffering sigh.

"You haven't even been inside yet, Claire," the man said patiently.

Claire sighed again, with emphasis. "You promised I'd have my own room, remember? If I have to listen to Meg snore one more night..."

The man fought back a smile as he unbuckled a child's seat and scooped up the last and smallest member of the family—a toddler with dark hair, thick eyelashes, and a dreamy gaze.

"Hear that?” The man said to her. “Claire says you snore."

Meg squinted in the sunlight just like her father. "Sometimes I growl, too."

Claire shook her head, fighting back a smile, and ran after her brothers.

"Guys, I have the keys!" The father yelled, fishing them out of his pocket as he carried Meg up the driveway.

Charley, the eldest, stuck his head out the kitchen window. "It's already open!"

"What?"

The front door had indeed been open, and the house was full of fresh, summer air. Castiel supposed the realtor had been by to tidy up. He walked up the porch steps and into the cool shade, then stepped inside and looked around.

The house had a spacious open kitchen and dining area. Beyond the staircase was a living room with an old fireplace and large windows overlooking the sunlit backyard. A hallway off the kitchen led to the laundry room, bathroom, and two spare bedrooms, one of which would become the father’s new office. The entryway was already littered with three pairs of shoes, and the children were running around a maze of boxes waiting to be unpacked. The furniture had already been moved in and situated, for the most part. Felix the corn snake had been placed on the kitchen table in his plastic box.

"Guys, be careful." The man put Meg down and let her wander after her siblings. “Don’t unpack anything yet, let’s just get situated.” But he might as well have been talking to the snake.

The kids were already exploring the house and shouting back and forth to each other excitedly. The father sighed and ruffled his thick, dark hair. The half-hour drive felt like it had taken all day. Still, he found himself smiling at the clutter now filling the house.

"Well, welcome home, Felix," Castiel sighed.

The snake flicked his tongue at him.

Local tradition would have the neighbors welcome the family with homemade food and a friendly handshake, but no neighbors seemed to be outside anymore. It was as if Elmwood Avenue had become a ghost town. Only one man, an older fellow with a gaunt face, remained outside watering his flowers, peering curiously at 525 Elmwood Avenue.

Castiel sent the kids outside to play as a commercial moving van pulled up with the final load of boxes. The boys ran outside, and Claire followed with a huff.

The backyard was large and grassy, with a firepit in the middle and the barn-like garage off to one side. It didn’t have a fence, but the surrounding foliage provided a lot of privacy. They could barely see the walking path behind their yard. Gabe was already climbing the biggest tree to get a better look at the neighbors’ yards, while Charley yelled at him below.

“Get down before you break your leg.”

“Do a flip!” Claire said.

“Look!” Gabe was already near the top. “That house has a pool!”

“Gabriel!”

Gabe frowned at his brother. “You’re not in charge!” He said, and he kicked a piece of bark at him.

Charley wiped bits of wood off of his glasses then rolled up his sleeves and began climbing. “I’m the oldest now, so, yeah, I am in charge.”

“Jack’s at school, he’s not dead,” Claire said.

Charley wasn’t as squirrely as Gabe, but he was more persistent and was catching up fast. Gabe kicked more bark down, which sprinkled over Claire’s head.

“Hey!” Claire glared at them.

Charley managed to grab hold of Gabe’s leg and they wrestled in the tree. Claire rolled her eyes and ignored them. She sat down at the base of the tree and took out her phone. A few minutes later, there was a resounding thump behind her. She rolled her eyes. Both boys had tumbled to the ground and started wrestling.

“You’re going to make dad come out here,” she warned, but a rustling noise from the foliage distracted her at once. “Shh! Shut up!” She hissed at her brothers.

They ignored her, so she threw a small rock at them.

“Ow!”

“Shut it!”

Charley looked over to the bushes, too. “What?”

“I thought… I thought I saw something.” Claire squinted into the shady green leaves that separated their yard from the walking trail.

With Claire and Charley distracted, Gabe wiggled out from under his brother and ran for it. Charley shouted and ran after him. Claire ignored them both. She got up and crept over to the bushes. It was hard to see with the sun in her eyes. She reached out to put her hand on a tree and something in the bushes darted away.

“Hey!” Claire called after them. She could tell it was a person but she couldn’t see them. She could hear their footsteps fading down the path. Claire began maneuvering her way through the foliage when the sound of male voices made her stop abruptly.

Two men, much less stealthy and coordinated than Claire, were moving towards her yard from the walking path.

Gabe and Charley ran inside the open house, darting around the movers as they spoke to Castiel.

“Did you see where the sledgehammer went?”A mover was asking.

“No, I—boys!”

“Charley started it!”

“No, I didn’t!”

Castiel sighed as the boys ran upstairs. “No, sorry, I didn’t even know I had one.”

As the movers hauled the last round of boxes inside, Castiel noticed a crack on the wall opposite the staircase. He hadn’t seen that the day before. He ran his hand along it curiously. It didn’t look like damage from the move, more like something had been thrown.

“Uh, Mr. Shurley, do you know them?” One of the movers, a burly man with a cajun accent, was looking out into the backyard.

Castiel turned around. He could see Claire backing up towards the house, just out of sight of two scruffy, young men holding a camera.

“Hey!” Castiel stormed outside.

The young men jumped and turned around in surprise. They had clearly thought they were alone.

Castiel grabbed Claire and moved in front of her.“What are you doing in my yard?”

They shrunk under Castiel’s fury and began talking over each other at once.

“I uh...we’re making a...” stammered a young man with large ears and round eyes.

“Film! Student film. On the...” said the slightly larger one, who had a thin beard and glasses.

“Wildlife of Derby...”

“Get off my property!” Castiel yelled. “If I catch you here again I’m calling the police!”

“Right away sir...”

“Yes sir, sorry...”

“Now!”

They scurried away with their camera, fumbling over each other and crashing back through the foliage. Claire looked up at her dad.

“Stupid teenagers,” Castiel muttered. “Come on, Claire.”

Claire grinned.

Charley and Gabe were both standing in the doorway to watch. The minute Castiel and Claire walked up the back porch the boys exploded into questions.

“It’s fine,” Castiel assured them, “it was just some nosy kids,”

“You should've eaten them, daddy,” Meg said. She was lying on her belly in the living room and watching Felix slink around the floor. “Opened your mouth up real wide and…” She mimed chomping with her hands.

Castiel smiled. “Next time,” he promised.

Castiel tipped the movers and watched them tow the orange van away. It disappeared down the leafy street, the bright siding fading from view.

Castiel’s relief faded all too quickly, however, replaced by the realization that he had a million boxes to unpack. For the first time in years, he felt like he needed a beer. The sound of a loud car passing by shook him from his thoughts, and he collected himself before turning to the kids.

“Okay,” he said briskly, “let’s get unpacked. Big boxes first. Did you all find your rooms?”

Castiel watched his carefully formulated plan fall apart in seconds as the kids immediately began bickering. Before he could even attempt to talk over them, he heard someone walking up the driveway.

Castiel looked over his shoulder. A man in his late twenties wearing jeans and a t-shirt was walking up to the porch.

“Alright, I want you unpacking in your rooms in two seconds,” Castiel commanded, making his kids freeze. “No fighting. Now.”

Gabe bolted up the stairs, chased by Claire. Charley began herding Meg up the stairs, who was suddenly trying to walk as slowly as possible.

Castiel held back a smile and walked over to the screen door. “Sorry about that. It’s a little crazy in here,” he said, letting in the man he presumed to be his new neighbor.

“No worries.” The man smiled at him. “You’ve got some cute kids.”

Castiel chuckled. As if on cue there they heard a loud thud from upstairs. “Cute, but crazy,” he said.

“Sounds like my ex,” the man grinned.

Castiel smiled. The man was sort of cute. He had short brown hair pushed back out of his sun-kissed face, bright green eyes, and was fairly freckly. His jeans had grease stains and his hands were calloused, but he was a much friendlier sight than the two teenagers Castiel had just chased out of his yard.

“Well, welcome to Derby,” he held out his hand and shook Castiel’s firmly. “I’m Dean Smith. I figured I’d stop by and see if you needed a hand with anything.”

“Thank you, Dean, but we’re all set,” Castiel said. “We just have a lot of boxes to unpack now.”

“Ah. I’m a little late, then,” Dean said. “Welcome to the neighborhood anyway.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said. “I was wondering when we’d get a visitor. Do you live next door?”

“Oh,” Dean’s smile fell a little. “No, actually...”

Castiel watched as Dean reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a wrinkled business card.

“I’m just the friendly neighborhood plumber and occasional box mover.” He handed him the card with a wink. “I live across town but I work all over the place. If you ever need anything, the first call is on the house.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you. I have a feeling I’ll be taking you up on that. Is it a busy day in Derby?” He asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah. There’s a farmer’s market and a couple of festivals going on downtown,” he explained. “They have a lot of stuff for kids there. You should check it out.”

“Do you have kids, Dean?”

“Me? Oh, no. Just a dorky little brother,” he grinned.

Castiel chuckled. It faded quickly, however. He wondered why none of the neighbors were coming by. Castiel had expected this neighborhood to be very welcoming.

As if reading his mind, Dean said, “And, uh, don’t worry about the neighbors. This house has seen a lot of newcomers over the years,” he confessed. “The thrill has probably worn off.”

“Ah.” Castiel understood.

“Well, give me a call if you need anything. I mean it. Anything at all.” Dean looked quite serious for a moment—almost too serious.

For a moment Castiel thought that Dean was flirting with him. He kept staring at Castiel’s lips instead of his eyes. But Castiel dismissed the thought. Young, attractive guys like Dean didn’t flirt with dads in their thirties. He was just being friendly, like everyone in a close-knit community.

“Thank you, I will,” Castiel smiled a little too late.

Dean flashed him a grin then headed back outside. Castiel watched him get into an old car parked on the street. It wasn’t old like Castiel’s SUV—It was a well-maintained, classic Impala. Its engine roared loudly as Dean drove off, sunlight flashing off the shiny black roof. Castiel suddenly found himself grateful to have found that house, despite his unenthusiastic neighbors.

“DAD!”

Castiel heard another bang and headed towards the staircase. He suspected that very little unpacking had gotten in his absence.

As the balmy summer afternoon faded into a cool, Autumn evening, Castiel was surprised to see how many boxes they’d gotten through. The kids’ rooms were mostly functional except for Meg’s, who kept climbing into boxes and making Castiel almost break his back trying to lift them. The living room was set up, which mostly involved getting the TV and WiFi working, and the kitchen and dining room was cleared enough to cook dinner, although Castiel had been talked into ordering pizza. Granted, the last thing he wanted to do was cook.

It wasn’t until the pizza man rang the doorbell that Castiel realized not a single neighbor had come by to welcome them. He remembered what Dean said about his house frequently changing residents, so he decided he’d introduce himself to his neighbors tomorrow. All he wanted to do for the rest of the evening was eat pizza and relax with his kids.

Castiel woke Saturday morning already exhausted by the day ahead. Charley was sleeping beside him, having sneaked in at some point during the night. Castiel was used to waking up to at least one of his kids hogging the bed, although it hadn’t been Charley for a while.

Castiel let them all sleep in a bit so he could do some unpacking on his own. Kitchen appliances, bookshelves, and equipment for his office were all things that required careful handling.

As the kids awoke Cas put out cereal and juice then gave them all jobs to do for the day. Charley was eager to help, although he kept getting distracted trying to reign in his siblings. Gabe was a slow unpacker because he kept getting sidetracked by the things he was unpacking, creating a bigger mess than they’d started with. Claire unpacked steadily but with a constant stream of loud sighs and eye rolls, and Castiel caught her putting things away wrong on purpose. Meg helped by rearranging things that Cas had already arranged and giving him twice as much work to do.

Deciding they all needed a break, Castiel took Meg to the store for some groceries and supplies and left Charley in charge. Gabe immediately wanted to get their bikes out from the garage, but Charley shut him down.

“Dad said to stay inside.”

Gabe groaned and threw a rubber ball at Charley. Charley ducked. Gabe saw much better ammo and grabbed his recently unpacked nerf gun. Despite Charley’s initial protests, both boys were soon shooting at each other and running around the house. Even Claire found her lightsaber and joined in. The carefully organized mess in the living was soon just a regular mess as they jumped over furniture and ran around the first floor of the house.

“Ow. Stop it!” A nerf bullet hit Claire in the middle of her forehead. She had stopped playing and was looking out the front window.

“What is it?” Charley asked, lowering his plastic gun.

A girl around Claire’s age was walking along the opposite side of the street and staring at their house. She had dark hair, a strong face, and brooding eyes. She accidentally made eye contact with Claire and Claire made a rude face at her. The girl made one back. Then Gabe hit Claire with another bullet and Claire turned on him, grabbing her lightsaber with renewed vigor.

Castiel decided to stop at the hardware store first. He needed supplies for the crack in the wall. He just hoped there was still only one crack by the time he got back. He felt reassured when he met a few people who welcomed Castiel and Meg to the neighborhood. The old man behind the counter even gave him a big discount. Castiel thanked him profusely.

They met a similar welcome at the grocery store. A few people greeted him, although none of them lived in his neighborhood. While waiting in the check-out lane, a woman came up to them and asked if Meg was her new daycare attendee. Castiel recognized her from the daycare’s website at once. She had olive skin, pretty eyes, and a wide, welcoming smile.

“Is this Megan Shurley?” She asked eagerly.

“It is,” Castiel adjusted Meg so she could see the woman. “Are you Ms. Duma?”

“I am. It’s nice to meet you, Megan.”

Meg eyed her shyly.

Castiel chuckled. “She won’t be this quiet in class, trust me.”

“I am very quiet,” Meg said loudly, making several people look around. “So quiet.”

Ms. Duma smiled. “Oh, I can’t wait to have you in my class. What is it you do for work, Mr. Shurley?”

“I’m a physical therapist,” Castiel said. “I work out of my home sometimes but I have an office in Wichita.”

“Out of your home?”

“That’s right. Meg’s a great secretary and all, but I think she’ll learn more practical skills in daycare,” he explained. “Like how to not put things up her nose.”

“I had to hide it from Claire!” Meg replied.

“Well,” Ms. Duma’s smile returned quickly, “Welcome to the neighborhood, Castiel and Meg.”

Castiel thought Duma seemed nice via email, and she definitely seemed that way in person, but there was something odd about her that Castiel couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something about the way she looked back at him after she resumed her shopping. It made him feel self-conscious. But the daycare was affordable, it was right down the street from their house, and it had great reviews. Plus Meg seemed comfortable with Ms. Duma which, to Castiel, was more important than an odd feeling.

Inside the Elmwood house, Charley got a text saying his dad was on his way home. Ten minutes of frantic cleaning later, the trio greeted Castiel innocently and helped him with the groceries. Castiel was happy to see the house was still standing, even if he did find a nerf bullet on top of the fridge.

After lunch, Castiel went to fix the crack in the wall while the kids begrudgingly resumed unpacking. It took him a while to find it again, and he quickly realized why. The crack was smaller than he remembered. Castiel squinted at it. It couldn’t have shrunk. Had he just imagined it being bigger the previous day? Confused but determined to check this off his list, he got to work. He only used a fraction of the tape and joint compound he’d bought, so he put the rest in a bag and saved it in the laundry room in case they encountered (or created) more cracks.

By Sunday morning Castiel was exhausted. It was already eight o’clock, but he felt like he could’ve slept for another six hours. He decided to close his eyes for just a minute. He was dozing off again when a loud sound from downstairs woke him instantly.

Castiel put his robe on and walked downstairs to see a guilty looking Charley standing at the kitchen sink. Charley turned around suddenly.

“I didn’t do anything!”

Castiel eyed him and the apparently spotless kitchen with mounting suspicion. Sensing the sink behind Charley was the cause of his son’s distress he stepped forward to investigate. At once he realized the tap was open but no water was coming out. An empty glass sat on the counter. Castiel sighed in relief.

“Don’t worry,” Castiel said gently. “I’ll call a plumber. This house sat vacant for a while so it’s probably not used to people being here. Now, how about breakfast?”

Once Charley was happily eating his eggs and toast, Castiel found the card given to him by Dean Smith and called it. To Castiel’s delight Dean was awake and offered to come by right away. Castiel made an extra pot of coffee and, when Charley, Gabe, and Claire had finished their breakfasts and asked to take their bikes out and explore the neighborhood, Castiel agreed, if only to have a somewhat conducive environment for Dean to work. Meg stayed behind, so Cas set her up with some finger paints and a big sheet of paper on the living room floor. By the time she was engrossed in painting what looked like a hotdog with fangs, Castiel heard a familiar car engine roaring down the road.

Castiel opened the screen door to see Dean’s familiar figure walking up to the porch. He couldn't but notice he was a little bow-legged. It suited him, though. Even at a distance, he was cute.

“Good morning. Thanks for coming so soon,” Castiel greeted him.

Dean flashed him a grin. “No problem. I was free this morning anyway.” He was wearing a black shirt and jeans that seemed a little too tight for plumbing work, but he had a toolbox with him and looked ready to get started.

“Glad to hear it,” Castiel said, leading him to the sink. “How’d you know we’d be needing a plumber so soon?” He joked.

“Oh, this place always needs fixing,” Dean said. “I knew the last owners.”

Castiel watched as Dean turned the sink on. Sure enough, nothing happened. It sounded as if water was moving somewhere in the wall, but none of it was coming out of the faucet. Dean’s expression was blank, as if he was listening for something. Finally, he shut the sink off and said coolly, “Alright, well it’s probably just backed up. I can fix it no problem. Just give me a bit and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Thank you, Dean” Castiel sighed.

“No problem,” Dean winked at him then knelt down and opened up the cabinet below the sink.

Castiel found his eyes drifting to the back of Dean’s shirt, which had lifted a bit as he crouched down. “Can I get you some coffee or anything?” He asked suddenly.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Happy to have something to do, Castiel moved around him to make a cup.

“How do you take it?”

“Black’s fine.”

Castiel passed him a mug of steaming coffee. Dean took a grateful sip and set the mug down beside him.

“So,” Dean said conversationally, “what made you move to Derby?”

Castiel leaned against the counter with his own coffee. “Well, honestly, I wasn’t even considering Derby because of the property taxes, but then I saw this place. Six bedrooms, three baths, great schools, it’s close to my office, and the price was… well, it was in my price range.”

Dean nodded. “I’ve always liked this house. It’s one of the oldest around, you know? There’s a lot of history in these walls.”

Castiel smiled at the thought. “I’ll bet. I’ve always wanted a house like this. It’s sort of a dream come true. Except for the sink.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, I can fix that for you.”

Castiel wanted to stay and see how Dean fixed it—If this house was one of Dean’s regular stops then Castiel would need to acquire some handyman skills—but he knew he needed to take advantage of the quiet and unpack his office if he wanted to start work the next day. Plus, he kept finding his eyes drifting to Dean’s muscled arms as he worked.

“If you need me I’ll just be unpacking the office down the hall,” Castiel cleared his throat, and his thoughts. “Meg’s in the living room but she shouldn’t bother you.”

“No problem,” Dean said. He resumed working as Castiel left down the hall.

It was a nice house, Dean thought. He took another sip of coffee then scrunched down to see under the cabinet. He had to bend at a weird angle to get at the section of pipe he needed. Maybe he should’ve worn looser jeans afterall.

After a few minutes of hard work, Dean got the pipe section dismantled but there wasn’t anything in there. He looked at the stained, yellowish wall that the pipes fed into. The dismantled pipe jutting out of it was completely dark inside. Dean took out a tiny flashlight, turned it on, and lowered himself to look inside.

Suddenly a loud sound made Dean bang his head on the cabinet.

“Look! I’m covered in blood!”

Dazed and seeing lights, Dean pulled his head out of the cabinet to see Meg covered in exclusively red finger paint.

Dean smiled, despite the pounding in his head. Castiel came running in seconds later and scooped Meg up, apologizing repeatedly.

“It’s fine,” Dean laughed, rubbing his head, “She’s quite the artist.”

“You’re telling me,” Castiel sighed.

“Daddy, I’m a surreal killer!” Meg said as Castiel took her upstairs to get cleaned up.

“Not if I can help it,” he muttered.

Dean chuckled. He took another sip of coffee then returned to the pipe. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the edge of the living room with its fireplace and large windows. Dust danced in the cascades of morning sunlight. He could just make out the finger paint kit and the large piece of paper abandoned on the living room floor. He twisted a pipe and checked it. No blockage. He ducked again, looking back over the living room. This time, he froze.

Dean slowly pulled his head out of the cabinet, staring at the living room. Just beyond the piece of paper there was a long shadow in the corner of the room, but there was something wrong about its shape. The sunlight stopped there like a curtain, leaving a strip of darkness beside the fireplace. Dean stood up slowly, staring at it. Forgetting all about the kitchen sink, he walked towards the fireplace. It looked like something—no, someone—was standing there, wedged in the corner of the room. Dean crept closer, his heart pounding.

“Is everything okay with the sink?”

Castiel’s voice jolted Dean back to reality. Castiel was coming down the stairs and staring at him. Dean did a double-take, but the corner of the room was empty and dark.

Castiel eyed him suspiciously.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it’s fine,” Dean said smoothly. “Had to let it sit for a moment. I’m gonna test it now.”

Castiel watched him curiously as he went back to the sink. Dean reached out and pushed the handle. They both heard the water moving and, to Castiel’s relief, clear, clean water came rushing out.

“Ha! There we go,” Dean grinned.

“Great,” Castiel smiled, all suspicion forgotten. “What do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house,” he reminded him. “The next one will cost you, though.”

Castiel eyed him. “Deal. Thank you, Dean.”

Despite Dean’s assurances that everything was fine, he seemed to leave rather quickly. He packed up his things, said goodbye to Castiel and the newly clean—although slightly pink—Meg, then he was off, his car roaring down the street. Castiel watched him go, worrying that Meg’s interruption might have bothered him. He’d been so chatty earlier. At least the sink didn’t give him too much trouble. Castiel reasoned that he probably had a lot of work to do on a Sunday and tried to put it out of his mind. He put Dean’s mug in the sink and brought Meg a snack, then sat down beside her to see what she was painting.

“Look,” Meg pointed to her masterpiece, “it’s you, swallowing those boys from the backyard! See all the blood?”

“That’s great, Meg,” Castiel said. Then, “Can you make my fangs bigger?”

“Oh, yeah,” Meg said at once.

Charley, Gabe, and Claire told Castiel all about the neighborhood when they returned home. They discovered that the walking path went all the way to the church downtown, and they could even walk to school from there. They also found an old fort someone had built in the wooded area just off the path. Castiel advised them to be careful and made a mental note to inspect it himself later.

Despite being in a new house, there was one thing that hadn’t changed at all: the annual back-to-school nerves. Dinner that night was a distracted affair. Claire was sulking, Gabe kept letting off his energy by pestering everybody, which made Charley overly controlling, which made Claire even more irritated. Even Meg had decided that she no longer liked purple carrots—the ones she had picked herself at the store—and wanted pizza again.

Castiel finally raised his voice and everyone stopped bickering. Castiel could sense that Claire was about to storm off, so he reeled himself back.

“Guys, I know this is stressful,” he said carefully, “but if we can just try to be kind for the rest of the week, we’ll all get used to the house and everything will get back to normal.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Back to normal? When were we normal?”

Gabe snickered. Charley glared at him. Meg was quietly saying ‘die’ to her carrots.

“We have a lot to be grateful for,” Castiel pressed on, “Charley’s going into honors English…”

“Nerd,” Gabe whispered.

“...Gabriel’s comic won the art show last year...”

“Dork,” Meg whispered.

“...Claire made the junior lacrosse team…”

“Big deal,” Claire mumbled.

“And Meg went a whole day without eating glue.”

Everyone smiled.

“You forgot Felix!” Meg said, “He ate a whole mouse today! It took forty hours. I watched.”

Claire smiled incredulously at her. “You are so weird.”

Castiel chuckled. “We have a fresh start here. We can do anything we want in this house.”

“Can I paint my room black?” Claire asked quickly.

Castiel eyed her appraisingly. “Sure. You can paint your room black.”

The boys stared at Castiel. Claire looked dumbfounded.

“Really?” she asked.

Castiel smiled at her.

“I want a motorbike!” Gabe seized the moment.

Castiel and Charley replied at the same time, “No.”

Castiel gave Charley a small grin.

“I want a dog!” Meg said excitedly.

Castiel was suddenly regretting his sympathetic generosity. “It’s a little too soon for a dog. We don’t even have a fence yet. Besides, we have Felix.”

“Felix is Jack’s,” Charley said, who looked unusually keen regarding the topic of a dog.

“The dog can scare off the woman in my room,” Meg added.

A loud silence filled the room.

“That’s your reflection, stupid,” Claire said.

Meg’s small eyebrows came together angrily.

“Meg,” Castiel interrupted, “How about I check your room before bed?”

“‘Kay.”

Charley and Gabe gave each other a wide-eyed look.

Castiel held back a sigh. “You know, with a new house comes all sorts of new sounds, new shadows, new everything,” he reassured them. “We just have to get used to it.”

Meg gasped, making Charley and Gabe jump. “We should get a bear!”

Castiel considered this patiently. “How about a cat? They poop less.”

“Or a horse,” Claire said. “Then we can have all the poop.”

Meg cheered, “Yay poop!”

Castiel and the boys laughed.

It took awhile to get the kids to bed that night. It was eleven o’clock before the house was finally still and quiet. Despite being exhausted, Castiel went downstairs to make tea. It was a windy night and he could see the tree branches casting long shadows on the front porch. He filled the teapot at the sink, silently thanking Dean Smith.

Castiel sipped his tea, savoring the silence, and found himself staring into the living room. It wasn’t until that moment that he remembered how strange Dean had acted before he left. His gaze focused on the corner of the room beside the fireplace. There was a long shadow there extending from the ceiling to the floor. Castiel stared at it, his eyes unfocused. Then he sighed and put his empty mug in the dishwasher. He hoped Dean would be willing to come back if he needed him.

Castiel went to the front door to make sure it was locked before he went to bed. He put his hand on the deadbolt and his skin erupted in goosebumps. He’d frozen where he stood. Through the blurred glass on either side of the door, it looked like someone was standing on the porch. For a wild moment he thought a neighbor, or even Dean, had come by, but then he remembered it was eleven o'clock at night. Concern finally outweighing his fear, Castiel unlocked the door and opened it.

No one was there. Nothing was moving but the dark oaks swaying in the wind and the moonlit lawn rippling in the breeze.

Castiel’s eyebrows came together. He shut the door and locked it. It must’ve been a shadow from the trees. Hadn’t he just told his kids about all the new sights and shadows that came with a new house? He double-checked the backdoor just to be safe, gave the corner of the living room a fleeting glance, then finally went upstairs to go to bed.

Outside, the trees swayed and creaked in the breezy night. The road gleamed like a black river under the street lights. Not a car or person could be seen outside 525 Elmwood Avenue. Summer was almost over, giving way to the reds and golds of Autumn. Inside the house, all was quiet, except for the kitchen sink which, in the dead of night, gurgled and spat out black water.


	2. Chapter 2

Of all the days for Castiel to forget to set his alarm, it would be the first day that he actually needed to get up on time: Monday. He awoke to find the sun blazing in his face and both of his boys fast asleep under the covers. He checked the clock and nearly leapt out of bed. The school bus would be there in forty minutes.

The morning was hectic at best. Neither Claire nor Gabe wanted to get up, Meg wouldn’t go back to bed and kept getting in everyone’s way, and on top of everything Castiel had to check the circuit board twice because the lights in his bathroom and the hallway kept turning off. 

It was nothing short of a miracle that everyone was ready in time for the bus. There was no time to reassure them that they’d have fun at their new schools, or remind Gabe and Claire to be on their best behavior, or tell Charley to try and make new friends. Castiel settled for giving them all a quick smile as the trio headed down the block. It was the sight of the back of Charley’s tall frame that assured him everything would be okay. Castiel couldn’t believe how much he’d grown. 

When the door closed Castiel took a moment to compose himself, then finally sat down to have his coffee with Meg, who was munching on toast.

“Daddy, can I have coffee?”

Castiel smiled. “Absolutely not.”

She gave him such a stern look that Castiel was forcibly reminded of her mother. His smile softened. He wished she could’ve seen the morning they had. Then again, perhaps it was best she didn’t.

“How about some more juice?” he offered instead.

Castiel had completely forgotten about the figure on the porch the previous night as he yawned and poured Meg more juice. He’d even forgotten about Dean Smith until a knock on the door woke him from his thoughts. Wondering if his neighbors had finally come by, he gave Meg her juice quickly and opened the door. 

“Morning,” came a familiar voice. Dean Smith was smiling toothily at him through the screen door. He looked pink in the face as if he’d been working in the sun.

“Dean?” Castiel opened the door for him. “What brings you by?”

“I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d see how your sink is holding up,” he said.

“That’s kind of you,” Castiel said in surprise. He only then realized how messy the kitchen was and how ungroomed he looked, despite being dressed for work. “It was a busy morning.”

Dean chuckled at Meg, who was licking the butter off of her toast.

Castiel was happy to see that Dean wasn’t put off by the mess, or whatever had happened in the living room the other day. Castiel considered asking him about it but decided against it.

“Can I get you any coffee?” Castiel offered.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Castiel realized Dean was looking at him now instead of Meg, and Castiel ran a hand through his untidy hair. “So uh… the sink,” he said, making his way to the coffee pot. “It’s working fine now. It must’ve been a blockage like you said. I haven’t had any problems since.”

“You sure? No problems at all?” Dean sat down at the table.

“No, nothing. Well, not with the plumbing anyway. I have to check the circuit board again after I take Meg to daycare,” Castiel explained. He brought Dean a cup of coffee and sat down opposite him. “The lights upstairs kept going on and off this morning.”

“You mean like, flickering?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well,” Dean mused, “because I also happen to be an electrician.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, is that all?” He joked.

“And a mechanic. On Sundays.”

Castiel chuckled. “Good, you can fix my van this weekend.”

Dean winked at him cheekily. “You got it.”

Castiel almost dribbled coffee down his chest. He recovered at the last moment and tried to look casual. At last, he replied, “You’re not… you’re not really an electrician.”

“I am,” Dean sipped his coffee. “I can have a look at the circuit board if you like. Unless you have to get to work?”

“No, no, I work from home today. I just have to drop off Meg down the street in a bit,” he said. “But, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to take up all of your time.”

“It’s no problem, really. I like helping out,” Dean smiled at him.

It occurred to Castiel that most plumbers wouldn’t follow up on a simple blocked sink, but Castiel was finding that he didn’t really mind. Dean was a little strange, but Castiel had been called that himself quite a few times and, well, Dean really was cute. Especially as he smiled at Meg, who giggled over her toast.

Castiel showed Dean to the circuit board in the laundry room just off the kitchen, then took Meg upstairs so they could both get ready. 

Dean grabbed a duffel bag from his car then headed back to the laundry room and opened up the circuit board. Suddenly, he felt odd. Maybe it was the fact that nothing seemed to be wrong with the circuit board, or maybe it was because he was back in the old, silent house where he’d seen something strange. It was a bright, sunny morning, but no warmth came from the small window. It was chilly, and the hair on his arms kept prickling. Dean’s eyes fell to a stain on the wall that divided the kitchen from the laundry room. He knelt down to inspect it. It didn’t look like water damage or mold. The unnatural chill in the room crept down the back of his neck with surprising speed, as if something had moved behind him. Feeling a thrill of adrenaline, he turned around on the spot.

Meg was standing there in a bright, summer dress, casually rifling through his duffel bag.

Dean breathed slowly in relief. “Meg,” he said, “what are you doing down here?” 

She looked up at him, clutching an old walkman and squinting suspiciously at him. “Will this fix the lights?”

Dean chuckled. She looked a bit like her dad. “Uh, no, that’s for my CDs.”

“CDs?”

“Yeah.” He leaned over to show her. “CDs go in there. Headphones go in here.”

Meg eyed the device skeptically, then gave Dean an oddly profound gaze. “You’re not a plum-ber.”

Dean blinked.

“I know what you really are.” Meg took a big breath. When she spoke again it was in a surprisingly ringing voice. “You’re a fairy prince! You have to fight the fairies and save the princess!”

Dean gaped slightly. He was spared a response by Castiel’s swiftly approaching footsteps.

“Meg!” Castiel came into the small laundry room, dressed and freshly shaven.

She turned to show him the walkman. “Look, daddy! He’s going to fight the fairies!”

“What did I tell you about bothering him? And touching things that aren’t yours?”

“It’s okay, really,” Dean grinned.

Meg put the walkman back in the bag with such a dramatic sigh that Claire would have been proud. “Sorry,” she said to Dean.

Dean smiled at her. “No problem.”

Castiel gave Dean an apologetic look then took Meg’s hand. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

“You got it,” he said. “Have a good day, Meg.”

“Bye…” she said dreamily.

Dean heard the front door close and the house fell silent once again. He exhaled deeply, a smile lingering on his lips. He glanced at the walkman placed neatly on top of his bag, then at the circuit board. The silence pounded against his eardrums. He heard Meg’s voice from out the window, disappearing down the block. Dean was completely alone. His expression hardened.

Abandoning the circuit board, Dean Smith grabbed his walkman, hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder, and hurried out of the laundry room. Keeping a cautious eye on the corner of the fireplace he threw his stuff down on the living room floor, then he put his headphones on and got to work.

The walkman had technically been used to play CDs—Dean hadn’t lied about that—but nowadays it was used for something quite different. Dean ran his home-made EMF reader slash walkman over every inch of the living room, pausing here and there to listen. If he hadn’t been so focused on his task he would’ve laughed. Meg had been right, sort of. Dean wasn’t really a plumber, an electrician, or a mechanic. Granted, he could’ve been any one of those things, if it weren’t for the fact that he was first and foremost a ghost hunter.

As expected, there was a large reading near the sink, specifically along the wall underneath it. Still, the amount surprised Dean. He had never seen it so high so soon after a family moved in. The reading increased in front of the screen door, and it spiked when Dean opened it and crossed the threshold. Dean glanced around the porch, deaf to the birds singing around him, then went back inside. He stared at the corner of the living room and took a deep breath. 

Dean approached the corner hesitantly, but not out of fear. He’d grabbed a salt shaker from the kitchen table and opened the top with one hand. The early morning sun hadn’t reached the corner yet, and a shadow hung like a sheet. Dean reached his hand out, wielding the salt shaker like a knife. It felt as if the shadow was staring back at him.

Dean thrust his hand into the darkness. The EMF spiked, but nothing happened. It didn’t even feel cold. He moved his fingers experimentally and noticed the air on his arm slowly rise. Not willing to tempt fate any further, he removed his hand.

With only five minutes left, he swept the rest of the first floor and went upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

The upstairs hallway was long and dark. A runner rug was lying cockeyed and the kids’ doors were open to the left. The EMF spiked right away in the corner of the small landing near the top of the stairs. Dean half expected to see a stain there, too, but the wallpaper looked new. Dean stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked up. A string hung from a square door leading to the attic. The EMF spiked there, and Dean decided he’d check that on his way back. 

He went through each room with the Walkman. He shivered a little as it moved over Felix the snake, who stared beadily at him and flicked his tongue. When he arrived at Castiel’s door, the only door firmly closed, he hesitated. Reminding himself of what was at stake, he pushed the door open.

Castiel’s room was messy but clean. The EMF reading grew all the way to the master bathroom and spiked again in the corner of the shower. Again, the tiles and wallpaper looked new. Determined to get into that attic, Dean walked back into the bedroom, but a photograph on the nightstand caught his eye and he stopped to look.

It was a picture of Castiel. Except, he looked about five years younger and had his arm draped over a pretty, dark-haired girl with a mischievous smile. She was half hugging him. They looked inseparable. He noticed they were both wearing lanyards with what looked like hospital IDs. Dean smiled at their unmistakable happiness, although a sadness he couldn’t identify was filling him all the same. Surely this was the children's mother. Meg looked just like her. If they were divorced Castiel wouldn’t have a picture like this, and yet it was obvious that this was a bedroom for one. 

Dean looked away. He was about to leave when he saw a whole series of framed pictures arranged throughout a bookshelf. They were mostly pictures of Castiel’s kids, a few of the same woman again but with long, blonde hair, and a picture of an older boy in high school graduation robes. The picture beside the boy was of two people Dean didn’t recognize. They were both young adults, maybe even younger than Dean. He realized with a start that one of them was Castiel. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one. He had lighter hair and a young, almost babyish face. He was beaming. The girl beside him was laughing. She was petite and kind-looking, with a warm, gentle smile. She didn’t look anything like Meg, but was just as pretty. She looked a lot like the boy in the graduation robes, actually. Dean suddenly checked his watch. Twenty-one minutes had passed. He swore silently and hurried out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him.

Castiel was walking up the street to his house carrying a plastic folder with information from the daycare. He saw one of his neighbors, a man with a gaunt face and shrewd eyes, and waved. The man was watering several vibrant flower beds in the front of his Victorian-style house, and he waved back amicably.

Wondering how Dean was doing, Castiel walked quickly up the porch steps, but he paused before he reached the door. He spotted a slight indent on the wooden porch that he’d never noticed before. It was in an odd place; right in front of the door. He pressed his foot down and was relieved to feel the wood hold his weight firmly. Deciding it was just worn down, he put it out of his mind for the time being and opened the door.

“I’m back!” He called, looking around. “Dean?”

Dean’s duffel bag was under the kitchen table and Dean was casually examining the wall opposite the staircase.

“Hey,” Dean greeted him casually. “I just finished up. How’s Meg's new daycare?”

Castiel put the folder on the kitchen counter and took off his shoes. “Great. Her teacher seems really nice. So, what’s the diagnosis?”

“Well, your electricity is working great,” Dean explained. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the lights. I see this a lot in older houses. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“That’s a relief,” Castiel said. At least he didn’t need to spend any more money.

“I just noticed this crack, though. Want me to patch it up for you tomorrow? Won’t take long,” Dean offered.

Castiel squinted at the wall and walked over to it slowly. It was cracked again.

“I just…I just fixed that.”

Dean’s brows came together, but he recovered quickly. “Maybe your joint compound was faulty. I can fix it for you no problem.” He gave Castiel a reassuring smile.

Castiel’s confusion faded to exhaustion. “You’re too kind. I haven’t even paid you for the circuit board.”

“Well, there was nothing wrong with the circuit board, but you can pay me for the crack tomorrow,” he offered. “I should probably come by anyway to double-check the board.”

Castiel looked at him curiously. “You know, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were making up excuses to come here.”

Dean gave him a smooth look. “You got me. I really am here to fight the fairies.”

Castiel laughed. Dean couldn’t help but see the younger version of Castiel from the photograph. He was older now and his smile was no longer as wide or carefree, but he was just as good-looking.

“Meg likes you, you know,” he said.

“What can I say? I’m a chick-magnet,” Dean winked at him.

Castiel grinned. “Yeah, well, don’t let me hog up all your time, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, chick-magnet.”

Castiel watched from the kitchen window as the Impala streaked away, then he headed to his office to work. He managed to get a lot done, and he even had time to unpack the last few boxes. After he finished he went upstairs to put the folded-up cardboard in the attic with all the other empty containers. He pulled the string in the upstairs hallway and climbed up the rickety, folding stairs.

There wasn’t a lot of storage space in the attic, but the garage more than made up for it. Castiel kept their unused furniture, holiday decorations, and memorabilia in the garage and used the house’s small attic for miscellaneous things like empty containers and spare bedding. He placed the cardboard on a stack of folded up boxes and looked around at the dingy space. There were stains on the floor and what looked like faded, worn down markings all around him. It was musty and damp, and Castiel tried not to breathe too deeply. But there was a prominent smell hidden in the room that Castiel just couldn’t block out. He could only assume a rat or a bird had died in there. It was a pungent odor, yet Castiel was unable to locate the source. The attic was shadowy and hard to navigate, and he found himself coughing the longer he stayed up there.

There were no dead animals, but Castiel did find one thing that didn’t seem to belong there. There was a small carving on one of the sloping walls. It was hard to make out, but Castiel could just see what looked like a star inside of a circle. Deciding he’d do a more thorough check of the attic when he had more time, Castiel headed back down into the hallway, taking a deep breath of crisp, clear air. 

That night the Shurley family had a special dinner. They made individual, homemade pizzas with the rest of the fresh ingredients they’d bought the other day. It resulted in the kitchen and connecting dining room becoming a mess, but for once Castiel didn’t mind. The kids were all laughing and talking animatedly over the many emptied pizza pans on the table, and Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so content. 

“What are you thinking about?” Meg asked him beside him.

It was only when she asked that Castiel realized his thoughts had drifted to his conversation with Dean. He’d been smiling to himself. Before he could answer, however, Claire jumped in. 

“Probably that repair man’s butt.”

Meg giggled. The boys made gross faces. 

Castiel gave Claire a knowing smile. “His name is Dean. And no, I’m not thinking about anybody’s butt. I have my own to worry about.”

Renewed laughter traveled around the table. Claire grinned.

“Speaking of butts, Felix needs to eat tonight,” Castiel said.

“I’ll do it!” Charley said.

“I’ll help!” Meg said.

Charley got up to help Castiel clean up the table, leaving Gabe and Claire to tease Meg about her pizza—pepperoni with M&Ms. As Castiel loaded the dishwasher he caught a snippet of their conversation.

“...no I swear, on the porch last night. You can see it from my room.”

“It’s probably that creepy girl down the street,” Claire said. “The one who’s always spying on us.”

“No, it’s not! It’s…” Meg started.

“It’s not a ghost,” Claire cut her off.

“Daddy…” Meg turned in her booster seat.

Castiel walked back to the table, resigning himself for another ghost discussion, but Meg didn’t ask about ghosts.

“When can Jack come over?”

The kids all looked at Castiel suddenly.

Castiel smiled at her. “How about this weekend?”

An excited shock went through the kids. Even Charley looked thrilled. Castiel chuckled. 

Castiel and his kids cleaned up and got ready for bed in high spirits. He was relieved that there was no more talk of ghosts, but he still paused by the front door before turning off the lights. He could hear the wind blowing outside, shaking the trees like waves on the ocean. He looked through the peephole and was happy to see nothing but the lamp-lit street outside. He sighed deeply. 

Castiel knew firsthand that stress did funny things to people, and this move had been incredibly stressful. It was a big milestone, after all. It was the first house the kids had lived in that their mother had never entered. 

The lights in the upstairs hallway were on as the kids got ready for bed. Castiel read to Meg while Charley finished feeding Felix. Gabe was brushing his teeth in the bathroom. Claire was in her room finishing the homework she accidentally mentioned she had.

“It’s the first day of school! You don’t do homework on the first day!” She had complained, but Castiel made her do it anyway.

Once Meg was asleep, Castiel went around and said goodnight to everyone. Claire ignored him, but Castiel was used to that. Gabe said a garbled ‘goodnight’ and got toothpaste all over his nightshirt. Felix similarly had his mouth full of mice when Castiel said goodnight to him and Charley.

“I’ll be up for a bit if you need anything,” Castiel told him before heading to his own room and shutting the door.

In the bathroom off the hallway, Gabe had finished wiping off his shirt. He rinsed his toothbrush, but before he could put it back in the bee-shaped plastic holder, he noticed something in the mirror. He stared at the reflection of the hallway behind him. The floor was illuminated in strips from their bedroom lights, but there was a darkened spot in the corner off the landing. He squinted at it, then caught sight of something on the ceiling. His eyes wandered up to the pull cord hanging below the attic door.

Toothbrush still in hand, Gabe walked out into the hallway and looked up at the square-shaped door. It blended in smoothly with the rest of the hallway, except for a small, discolored stain. Gabe put the toothbrush in his right hand and as if in a daze, reached up for the cord. He wasn’t tall enough to reach it. He wiggled and jumped, but his fingers merely grazed the cord. He could hear whispering coming from the ceiling. He could no longer hear the muffled music from Claire’s room. He needed to get into the attic. It was more important than anything. The string bounced and swung as he tried desperately to reach it.

A noise from behind Gabe startled him and he spun around. His eardrums were pounding and he could suddenly hear the muffled music behind Claire’s door. He looked at the toothbrush in his hand, confused. He felt strangely cold. He walked back to the bathroom and happened to glance back at the shadowy corner of the landing. 

A jolt of fear froze Gabe to the spot. His eyes widened as he saw a strangely misshapen figure hovering in the shadow. It was tall and wispy, and a horrifying, ragged murmuring was emanating from the spot where it swayed. What looked like limbs extended outwards, strangely bent and scratching frantically at the wall. Gabe realized that whatever it was, it was moving towards him along the wall.

With a thrill of fright, Gabe pelted into Charley's room and slammed the door shut. 

Charley looked over his book at him. “What are you…”

Gabe held the doorknob, his toothbrush clenched in his fist, looking pale and wide-eyed.

Charley glared at him. “If this is another prank you can do it in the morning. I’m tired…”

“It’s not a prank, idiot!”

Charley stared at Gabe’s terror-stricken face and got up slowly. “What’s wrong? Where’s dad?”

“I don’t know!” Gabe snapped, his voice hushed.

They bickered as Charley tried to calm him. Suddenly Gabe’s hands flew off the knob as if he’d been electrocuted. Gabe clapped his hands over Charley’s mouth. Charley glared at him, but then he heard it. Something was scratching at the door from the other side. 

Both boys froze. The frantic, hard sound pierced the still air. It sounded like it was moving across the door. The noise faded as it passed over them and headed down the hallway. Instead of feeling relieved, however, they both looked at each other in horror. Claire was next door.

Charley and Gabe threw the door open and burst into the hallway. They fumbled over each other, trying not to look anywhere but at their feet, and ran into Claire’s room.

“What the Hell…” Claire’s voice greeted them.

Charley and Gabe both slammed her door closed.

“...are you doing in my room?”

The boys immediately began talking over each other.

“Something…”

“A _ghost_!”

“...in the hallway…”

Claire stared at them. She was sitting on her bed, her homework lying open and untouched on the desk across the room. Meg was there, having apparently sneaked out to sleep in Claire’s room. She was sitting beside Claire, looking stern. She folded her small arms. 

“Told you so, assbutts,” Meg said.

“Oh my god,” Claire said incredulously, “Seriously. There is no g…”

The boys suddenly flew away from the door. Charley ran to Claire’s stereo and turned it off.

“Hey!”

“Shh!” Gabe hissed at her.

The four of them heard it at the same time: the nail-breaking scratching at the door. It was a loud, chaotic sound, like something wild and blind trying to burrow into wood. Claire’s jaw clenched. Meg looked cross. The seconds felt like minutes. Everyone’s eyes were locked on the door until the scratching finally passed. They listened to it moving towards Meg’s empty room.

The silence was cold and electrified.

“See!” Meg said loudly.

Charley, Gabe, and Claire all shushed her.

Castiel was lying in bed reading by lamplight. He’d been texting his eldest son, Jack, about visiting over the weekend. Jack was excited to see the new house all set up. He had wanted to come by sooner, but it was his first week back at college and Castiel wanted him focused on his studies. It wasn’t as if the house was going anywhere.

Castiel heard Claire’s music turn off and checked the time. It was ten o’clock. Surprised but proud, Castiel put his book down and turned off the light. He was exhausted. But before he could even close his eyes, his bedroom door flew open.

Charley, Gabe, Claire, and Meg came into his room like a whirlwind, all talking over each other.

Castiel sat up in surprise. “Alright, alright! Enough!” He had to holler. “What’s going on?”

Gabe was the first to speak. “It’s a ghost! There was a ghost in the hallway.”

Castiel looked patiently at them all. He got up without a word and walked out into the hallway. His kids all stepped back into his room, watching him heavily. Castiel looked around at the silent, empty hallway. He didn’t see any ghosts, but he could tell the looks of fear on his children's faces were genuine. Even Claire looked shaken. He checked the time, then took a deep breath. 

“Alright, you can sleep with me tonight. But just tonight.”

There was a collective sigh from the kids and a mad rush for the bed. Smiling slightly, Castiel turned off the lights.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel had no idea how he got any sleep that night, but he knew he must have because the next thing he knew his alarm clock was going off and the bedside window was aglow with cool, morning light. He disentangled himself from his children and got up, causing more than a few groggy utterances. It had been a while since all of his kids slept in his bed, and long passed where the days when they could all fit. Claire had been shunted to the floor and taken all of the blankets, and Meg was lying across the boys and snoring. Despite this chaos, Castiel found himself smiling.

He put his robe on, but when he went to put on his slippers, he leapt back in alarm. He picked up the slipper and found Felix had joined their slumber party, having been rescued from the ghost as well. Castiel scooped up their littlest family member, put on both slippers, and stepped out into the hallway.

It wasn’t until Castiel was standing in Charley’s room, having deposited Felix back into his box, that he began to wonder what had caused his four youngest kids to become so spooked. 

Having worked in a hospital for so long, Castiel had seen enough death to last two lifetimes. He was sure that if ghosts existed he’d have seen one by now. But he didn’t believe his kids had lied. The most probable cause seemed to be a prank that got out of hand. Gabe had probably tried to scare Charley or Meg and gotten himself and everyone else spooked. Castiel sighed. At least they hadn’t named him after Castiel’s brother in vain. Gabriel Shurley spent most of Castiel’s childhood playing pranks on their eldest brothers and getting in trouble.

It was by chance that Castiel glanced up at the attic door as he walked into the hallway. There was a stain on it that hadn’t been there the day before. Castiel frowned. He added that to his mental to-do list then went downstairs to make coffee.

No one spoke about ghosts that morning. Castiel and his kids were all too tired, and nobody had the energy to worry about anything aside from getting ready for school. Still, it was a much better morning than the previous one. Charley led Gabe and Claire out the door with ten minutes to spare, and Castiel walked Meg to her preschool with plenty of time to do some work at home before going into his office.

Castiel had just made a second pot of coffee when he heard a knock at the door. He’d forgotten all about Dean coming by to check on the breaker. He hurried to the front door and, sure enough, spotted the Impala gleaming on the street.

Castiel opened the door and saw Dean Smith leaning on his porch railing.

“Morning,” Dean grinned.

Castiel smiled sheepishly. “Hi. Uh, good morning.”

Castiel let Dean in and shut the screen door behind him. It was a warm day, and Castiel could see beads of sweat on the back of Dean’s slightly sun-burnt neck. 

“I forgot you were coming by, sorry. There’s fresh coffee if you’d like some, and some not-so-fresh bacon on the stove.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose and he gave the stove a look of longing. “Oh baby.”

Castiel chuckled. “Help yourself.” 

Dean did just that. He hung out by the stove, munching on bacon as Cas grabbed a mug from the cabinet at random and filled it. 

“Rough night?” Dean asked.

“Is it that obvious?” Castiel asked, having just stifled a yawn. 

Dean took his coffee from Castiel. “Hey, it’s cool. The overworked-dad look suits you.”

Castiel smiled wearily. There it was again—Dean kept looking at Castiel’s lips instead of his eyes. Castiel didn’t understand. He suddenly felt the need to say something.

“So… uh, the breaker.”

Dean looked up at him in surprise.

“You’re here to check the breaker… right?”

Dean took a breath. “Right.”

Castiel squinted at him.

Dean popped another piece of bacon in his mouth, then adopted a suddenly professional expression. “Has it been giving you any more trouble?”

“Uh, no actually. Not since yesterday.”

Dean nodded, sipping coffee from his cowboy mug. “Well, then I think your circuit board is good. I wouldn’t put any money into it. You might just have to deal with the occasional outage and reset the breakers.”

“Sounds about right.” Castiel sighed lightly. “I knew this house would be a little different than our last. It’s hard to find homes big enough for six.”

Dean’s professional expression softened a little. He looked conflicted for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then he asked, “Six? I thought you had four kids.”

“Five,” Castiel corrected him, sitting back down at the table and offering a seat to Dean.

Dean sat down, looking interested.

“Meg is my youngest, then there’s Claire, Gabe, Charley, and my eldest, Jack. He just started his second year at KU. He’s pre-med,” Castiel smiled fondly.

“Wow. Smart kid.”

“Very smart.” Castiel looked relieved at this. “I’d say he’s following in my footsteps, but he’s already way ahead of me.”

“You work at the hospital, right?” Dean asked curiously. “I mean, I heard from around town...”

“Well,” Castiel said slowly, “I completed my residency... but then my wife, Meg, passed away. I couldn’t raise our kids spending eighty hours a week at work, so I quit and took a job as a physical therapist,” he explained, a sober expression deepening the lines of his face. 

Dean considered this. “Your kids are very lucky,” he said soberly. “I lost my mom when I was young, and my family fell apart. My dad started drinking. It was rough. I practically raised my younger brother.”

Castiel looked sympathetic. “Where is he now?”

“Law school,” Dean said. “He got all the brains in the family. I got the good looks.”

Castiel laughed. Dean winked at him. Castiel knew it was a stage wink, but he still felt himself flush a little. He took another sip of coffee.

“So Meg was your wife?” Dean asked, thinking of the photographs in Castiel’s room and trying to sound innocent.

Castiel nodded. “Second wife. She’s Meg, Claire, Gabe, and Charley’s mom. We went to the same college and did our residency together. My first wife, Kelly, was Jack’s mom. She passed away, too.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Dean said. He had that conflicted look again, but when he spoke his tone was light. “Well, I know who I’ll be going to for rehab next time I break something. Kansas’s most overqualified physical therapist,” he grinned.

Castiel grinned back.

“Mind if I grab another cup?”

“Help yourself.”

Castiel knew he should be working, but it was nice having company. He didn’t socialize with many people his own age anymore. Or people _closer_ to his own age, at least. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d talked about Meg or Kelly to anyone outside of his immediate family. It felt good, even if Dean was practically a stranger.

“Do you still have any of that joint compound left?” Dean asked from the coffee pot. “If not I’ll need to pick some up.”

“Oh, right. It’s in the laundry room. I’ll get it.”

“I got it,” Dean said as Castiel began to get up.

Castiel sat back down and watched Dean disappear into the laundry room down the hall. Once again he found himself wondering if it was normal for the local repairman to get so involved in helping a new family move in. Surely it was a little odd. His neighbors weren’t even coming by. 

Suddenly, a crazy idea occurred to him that made his heart leap—maybe it wasn’t the house Dean was interested in. No, Castiel calmed himself. He couldn’t let himself think like that. Dean was too young for him. Too attractive, even.

When Dean came back into the kitchen with the compound and some tools, Castiel looked away awkwardly.

“You said you already tried to fix it with this?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded into his coffee. He thought he saw Dean smiling.

“Well, I’ll give it a shot. It’s weird that it didn’t last. The compound looks fresh.”

Castiel glanced at him, then passed a hand through his hair again. “Yeah, weird.”

“Is there anything else weird you’ve noticed around here?” Dean asked casually.

Castiel couldn’t help himself. He looked at Dean. That seemed like an odd question. “No, not really.” Aside from his kids seeing ghosts, but he figured that wasn’t what Dean meant. “Actually,” Castiel said thoughtfully, “I was wondering if I should cut down some of the lower branches on that oak tree out front. The other night, when we had all that wind, the branches got really close to the front porch. I thought someone had come by,” he chuckled to himself.

Dean looked puzzled at this and Castiel’s casual laughter died away.

“I mean, because of the way the shadows moved on the porch,” he said, trying to sound convincing. “The branches must have really been…”

“You saw someone on your front porch?” Dean asked.

Castiel hesitated. “Well…yes, but there was no one there when I opened the door.” 

Dean looked strangely serious. Castiel felt embarrassed. 

“You... don’t think I need to trim the trees out front?” 

There was no denying it. Dean was definitely working up to something. He looked more conflicted than ever. Finally he took a deep breath and asked, “When you bought this house, did you uh, hear anything about its history?”

Castiel looked at him curiously.

Dean took that as a ‘no’ and continued, his voice carefully measured. “It’s just… there’s a legend about this house. About the stuff that’s happened here. I didn’t want to say anything, but...”

“Then don’t.” 

Dean looked at him.

Castiel hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but something in his chest had become suddenly painful. It was like a balloon had just popped, deflating him. “I don’t know about any ‘legend’, and frankly I don’t want to.” Dean’s expression hardened. He opened his mouth as if to argue, so Castiel added, “This is my family’s home now. And if you’re only here because of a legend then you can leave.”

Dean closed his mouth in surprise. “What about the crack?” He asked resolutely, still holding the bag with the supplies.

“I’ll do it.” Again, it came out much harsher than Castiel meant it to.

Dean didn’t argue. He could tell he’d overstayed his welcome. He licked his lips, then left the supplies on the kitchen counter and bid Castiel farewell. Shame swelled in Castiel’s chest as he watched him go. 

Castiel sat at the table for a moment, lost in his thought. At last, he heard the Impala roar down the street. He got up and put Dean’s half-emptied coffee cup in the sink. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if he were fighting something off. 

He should have known Dean was only there because of the house. He was no different than those two teenagers on his property when he first moved in. He was a fool to think otherwise. There was a reason no one else had come by to welcome his family. He should have anticipated this. Afterall, Castiel knew what he was getting into when he bought 525 Elmwood. 

Castiel took a deep breath, refilled his own mug, and got to work, trying hard to ignore the emptiness filling his chest.

  
  


Leaves had begun to turn yellow in Derby, dappling the town with Autumn color. Castiel’s kids were walking home from school, following the path that went to their backyard. Claire and Gabe were bickering as they walked behind Charley.

“You’re an idiot,” Claire said.

“But you saw it, too!”

“Yeah, but I’m _not_ an idiot.”

“Dude!” Gabe looked at Charley for support. “Was there or was there not a freaking gh-”

“Enough, Gabriel,” Charley said. He looked exhausted. Suddenly—“Hey!” 

Gabe had stepped on the back of Charley’s shoe and made him stumble.

Claire laughed. Gabe strode ahead of Charley, who had stopped to fix his shoe. 

“Real mature,” Charley glowered at him.

“Okay fine,” Gabe continued, “you guys want to get eaten by a ghost, be my guest. Me and Meg will do it without you two babies.”

“You can’t even tie your shoelaces,” Claire scoffed. “How are you going to fight a ghost?”

“Don’t bother dad with that ghost stuff, okay?” Charley said seriously. “And don’t scare Meg.”

Gabe mimed talking with his hand. 

“Speaking of dad,” Claire changed the subject abruptly, “what are we going to do about…” she glanced around at the fenced yards around them, “...Dean?”

The boys stared bemusedly at her.

She gave them a sharp look.

“You want to hook up dad with the repairman?” Gabe asked, half grossed out, half excited.

“What?” Claire asked defensively. “He can fix stuff, he has a nice car, and he clearly likes dad. Why else would he keep coming by?”

“Uh, because it’s his job,” Gabe said.

Claire scoffed. “You’re so dumb.”

“You really think he likes dad?” Charley asked.

Claire rolled her eyes, muttering, “Hopeless.”

“Alright, fine,” Gabe said swiftly. “One bouquet of roses coming up.” And before Charley could stop him, he ducked under a fence into someone’s backyard. 

“Gabe!” Charley hissed.

Claire watched him in nervous excitement.

Gabe sneaked across the stranger’s lawn and over to a flower bed. He grabbed the biggest, brightest flowers and pulled them clumsily by the stems.

Claire and Charley’s expression were complete opposites. Charley looked exasperated, Claire delighted. Suddenly, a voice made all three of them jump.

“Hey!” 

Someone was hurrying around the garage towards the flowerbed. Gabe grabbed the flowers and sprinted back to the fence.

A young girl with a bold face was striding toward them, but she froze when she saw who was stealing from her yard. Gabe ducked under the fence and tumbled behind Charley.

Claire’s eyebrows rose. “Hi stalker,” she said hotly, folding her arms.

The girl looked guilty, but she glared at Claire all the same. Claire glared back. The boys exchanged wide-eyed looks.

“Go,” Claire told them. “I got this.”

Charley and Gabe didn’t need telling twice. They ran off down the path, dirt trailing behind them.

In the livingroom of 525 Elmwood Avenue, Castiel was finishing repairing the crack in the wall. Again. He was painting over the compound with Meg’s help, who he’d picked up from daycare on his way home from work. She had opted to wear protective eyeglasses for the occasion, but they were too big for her and kept falling down her face. Castiel was smiling. He stepped back to admire their handiwork.

“Daddy, you missed a spot,” Meg pointed up.

Castiel knew he hadn’t, but he picked her up and let her paint more white over the crack.

“That’s very good,” Castiel said. “Maybe Claire will let you paint her room.”

“Can I paint it with blood?” Meg asked excitedly.

Castiel chuckled. “Whose blood?”

Meg shrugged, deeply engrossed in her work.

A noise from outside made Castiel look to the front door. Charley had texted him ten minutes ago saying they were walking home, but Castiel didn’t see the kids anywhere out front. 

Castiel put Meg down and had her go wash up. Castiel himself had paint on his forearms and hands, but he gathered up his things first. He picked up the rest of the compound, the paint, and the brushes, then noticed a sledgehammer laying on the floor. He supposed Dean had grabbed it by accident that morning. The thought of Dean made Castiel’s stomach tighten. He regretted becoming short with him. Castiel knew he had overreacted. He absentmindedly scratched off a spot of dried, red paint on the hammer, probably from Meg’s finger paints, then put everything back in the laundry room.

When Castiel walked back into the living room, he saw Claire had come home through the back door. She had a wide-eyed look that made Castiel’s eyes narrow, and she was hushing a giggling Meg.

“What’s going on?” Castiel asked shrewdly.

“Nothing,” Claire said quickly. She didn’t have any injuries, notes from school, or anything else worrisome. She looked perfectly angelic, as she always did when she knew she was in trouble.

“Claire…”

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but Meg cut her off.

“We’re a distraction!” She bounced up and down.

Claire shut her eyes in exasperation.

Castiel stared at them both, then he heard another noise from the front of the house. It sounded like more giggling. Sensing there was no real danger, Castiel relaxed and went to inspect the front door. Sure enough, when he opened it there was a messy bundle of flowers at his feet, most with the roots still attached. Castiel sighed in amusement. He bent down and scooped up the flowers, then found a business card covered in dirt underneath. It was Dean’s. Castiel paused at this.

Back in the living room, Castiel found Meg, Claire, Gabe, and Charley all lounging around casually, although the boys were out of breath and Gabe’s hands were filthy.

Castiel gave them a piercing look, then took the flowers to the kitchen to put them in water. “We have very romantic ghosts,” he said loudly over his shoulder. He heard renewed giggles break out in the living room, and found himself smiling, too.

  
  


The lilies and asters had been trimmed, cut, and deposited into a vase at the center of the table. Castiel didn’t ask where they’d come from; he suspected he didn’t want to know. Dinner had been set up around the vase and everyone was eating and talking. To Castiel’s relief, neither ghosts nor Dean were mentioned.

After dinner, Castiel made sure everyone’s homework was done and all their things were ready for school the next day. He was looking forward to having a morning better than the previous two, although he realized with a sinking disappointment that Dean no longer had a reason to come by. It was probably for the best. 

By eleven o’clock everyone was asleep in their own beds and Castiel was changing into his pajamas. As he folded his pants, he found the dirty business card in his pocket. He looked at it for a while. Finally, he sighed, set the card down, and took his phone off its charger. 

Castiel didn’t expect to get a text back from Dean that night. It was late, and he knew he had been too rude to warrant a response. He was about to turn off the light when he heard his phone buzz on the nightstand. Castiel picked it up and smiled.

To his astonishment, Castiel ended up texting Dean until one o’clock in the morning. He couldn't remember the last time he’d stayed up late talking and laughing to someone. It was like when he first met Meg. He felt strangely awake even after he and Dean had said goodnight to each other, so he decided to get a glass of water. He got up and put his robe on. The only light in his room came from his phone stand and a sliver of moonlight between the curtains. He glanced out of the window at the street below, and did a double-take.

Charley, Gabe, Claire, and Meg, were standing on the sidewalk across the street in their pajamas, staring up at the house, their pale faces looked like ghosts in the moonlight.

Castiel’s eyes widened. Blinded by panic and confusion, he raced down the stairs, unlocked the front door without checking the peephole, and ran barefoot into the cool night.

The front lawn rippled in the breeze, and the grass was damp under Castiel’s feet. He ran halfway across the front yard before the sidewalk came fully into view. With a sinking sensation, he realized there was no one standing there.

Castiel stopped and bent double to catch his breath. He looked again at the place where he’d just seen all of his kids huddled together. Fear and anger turned to panic. Castiel looked back at his bedroom window. It was dark. The house looked like every other house on the block—asleep and silent. Castiel panted hard. What was happening? Had he imagined seeing all of his children outside?

It took Castiel a few moments to collect himself. At last, he stood up straight and turned back towards the house, feeling exponentially more embarrassed and confused. Still panting slightly, his eyes fell to the front porch and he stopped dead in the grass. There was a dark figure standing in front of the door. It was so close that it looked like it was staring right into the peephole.

A chill swallowed Castiel whole. He looked away and back again, but the figure was still there. Something painful was pressing against his ribcage, threatening to break it, but his mind had gone completely blank. Only one thought was now reverberating through his skull—he hadn’t locked the door.

Castiel walked slowly across the front yard, stepping on damp grass and cool stones, but no matter how close he got, the figure didn’t falter. It looked like it was made of dense, black smoke. Tree limbs rocked in the wind, casting long shadows across the porch and the figure. He stepped on a sharp rock and gritted his teeth, but he didn’t make a sound.

Castiel touched the railing of the porch steps with his fingertips. The wind was doing something strange now. It sounded raspy and rhythmic. With a jolt of dread, Castiel realized that it wasn’t the wind at all—The sound was coming from the figure. It was as if it were trying to breathe through damaged lungs. He would have given anything to run, but he knew he couldn’t. He shifted his weight onto the first stair, and it creaked. He expected the figure to turn around at any second. Castiel could only pray it didn’t. He didn’t want to see its face.

He lifted himself up onto the second step. He was close enough to smell it. It smelled rotten. He took a shallow breath, raised his foot to step onto the porch, and then a beam of light blinded him. Castiel stepped backward in surprise, covering his eyes with his arm.

“Everything okay over there?” A man’s voice echoed from across the street.

The beam of light illuminated the front porch, and Castiel stared at it in shock. There was no one there.

“Mr. Shurley?”

Castiel turned around. He pulled his robe a little tighter, grateful he’d put one on. “Yeah! I’m fine,” he shouted back, his heart constricting his throat. “I… I left something out here earlier.” He lied. He felt ridiculous standing outside in the middle of the night, barefoot and drenched in sweat.

The light turned off and Castiel saw the older man who lived across the street, his gaunt facing peering out over his moonlit flower garden. “Alright, then,” he called mildly. “Have a good night.”

“Good...goodnight,” Castiel replied, trying to sound sane. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, but he hurried back inside all the same, trying not to linger on the spot where the figure had been.

He locked the door behind him and immediately went back upstairs. Hardly breathing, he checked on Charley and found him fast asleep, moonlit glinting off his glasses on the bedside table. Then he went to Gabe’s room, then Claire’s. Everyone was tucked in their beds, fast asleep. Meg was snoring.

Relief swept over him, but it was short-lived. Castiel soon found himself sitting on the edge of his own bed in a state of complete bewilderment. For a moment he wondered if it had been a nightmare, but there was grass and dirt sticking to his damp feet. He grabbed his phone to text Dean, but his thumb just hovered over the letters. What would he even say? His thoughts had been replaced by a frantic buzzing. He stared at the last ‘goodnight’ Dean had sent him, then decided against it. In the end, he shut the curtains to his window and laid back down.

It took a long time for Castiel to relax and fall asleep. Halfway through the night, he awoke with a start. He’d felt, rather than heard, his door open and was relieved to see it was only Charley. Castiel let him sleep in his bed, internally grateful for the company. He watched Charley’s silhouette crawl under the covers then heard the familiar sound of his son breathing.

“Charley,” Castiel whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied sleepily, “Just had a bad dream.”

“What was it about?”

Charley yawned slowly. “Some guy… tied up in a small room. I think he was a prisoner.”

Castiel felt relieved. He’d half expected him to say ‘a shadow figure’. 

“Get some sleep,” Castiel said, and he rubbed Charley’s back until they both fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel’s efforts the previous night ensured that his family had their smoothest morning yet. The only caveat was that Castiel was exhausted. He made breakfast in a daze and let the rush of morning activity consume him.

After the kids left and Castiel walked Meg to daycare, he made a third pot of coffee and got his office ready. He had his first few house-visits in the new home. In no time at all, the doorbell rang and Castiel stifled a yawn. He put on a smile and opened the door to greet his client.

The morning passed in a blur. His clients all complimented him on his new home, and Castiel was happy to see them, but all he wanted to do was put his head down on his desk and take a nap. He was relieved when, several hours later, his final client of the day showed up right on time. Castiel had never met this man before. He was a local and had only made the appointment the other day. Castiel opened the door to greet him.

“Good afternoon. Mr. Fitzgerald?”

A tall, gangling man with large ears and a warm smile came up to meet him. “Afternoon. Thanks for seeing me last minute.” He shook Castiel’s hand firmly and stepped inside.

Castiel offered him some tea then led him to the office. Garth Fitzgerald IV was the local dentist in Derby. He was laid back and laughed easily, and he was able to tell Castiel all about the local medical community. Castiel could tell his bad back wasn’t quite as bad as Garth claimed, but Castiel didn’t mind. Garth was a great client. Castiel sent him home with some exercise instructions and was looking forward to seeing him again. He was just walking him out when he heard a familiar car door close nearby.

Castiel and Garth both turned, blinking in the late August sunlight, to see Dean Smith walking up the driveway.

Castiel was surprised to see him, but Garth beamed.

“Hola amigo!” Garth hugged Dean genially.

“Hey,” Dean looked winded, but smiled. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel looked between them in mild surprise. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“Small town,” Garth said. “Dean here’s the best mechanic in the area. Fixed my ride about a hundred times,” he said fondly. “Well, don't let me interrupt you. I’ll see you guys later. Don’t forget to floss!” 

Castiel and Dean both waved to him as he got into his car and drove off, passing the Impala parked on the street.

“Do you have a sec?” Dean asked Castiel.

“Uh, yes, yeah,” he said, flustered, “Mr. Fitzgerald was my last client for the day. Come in. I just have some paperwork to do.”

Castiel led Dean inside. The kitchen was clean today, and an assortment of teas were set up on the counter, presumably for Castiel’s clients. 

“Tea?” Castiel asked. “Juice?”

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” Dean said, looking somewhat awkward. 

Castiel paused. He thought he knew what was going on in Dean’s head. 

“Cas, I wanted to ap...”

Castiel waved away his apology. “It’s okay. You were worried about my family.”

Dean gave him a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry, too,” Castiel said. “I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just been a little stressful around here.” He sighed.

Dean’s smile warmed, and Castiel flushed a little. It was a nice feeling. He’d felt numb all afternoon, but it was as if a weight had shifted off of him.

“Hey,” Dean spotted the fixed wall, “nice work.”

Castiel looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Meg helped.”

“I’ll bet,” Dean chuckled.

“I still can’t figure out why it keeps coming back, though,” Castiel said. “And there’s a spot on the attic door upstairs that definitely wasn’t there before, but I’m not keeping much of anything up there, it’s easier to store things above the garage, and I keep losing tools or misplacing them…” Castiel suddenly found himself ranting and he took a steadying breath. “This house is a lot more work than I expected,” he confessed. “I feel like I’m going crazy sometimes.”

Dean had let him talk himself into silence, nodding sympathetically. At last he said, “Well, you’re not. I may not be a psychologist, but…”

Castiel rose a brow. “That’s surprising.”

Dean grinned. “...but if there’s anything I can do to help, you know my number.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

In the contented silence Dean’s eyes fell to Castiel’s lips again, but then they dropped to his arm. “Um, you got some paint… here...”

Dean reached out and Castiel turned slightly, letting him rub a speck of paint off his elbow. Dean must have been working outside all morning because he was radiating summer heat. Castiel could feel it over his shoulder. He smelled like grass, sweat, and gasoline. It was a surprisingly pleasant combination. Castiel felt Dean’s hand accidentally graze Castiel’s side, and Castiel’s heart leapt.

“There,” Dean said, stepping back.

Castiel glanced at him awkwardly, feeling suddenly winded. “Thanks.” He rubbed his elbow.

Dean’s friendly smile seemed to ease his beating heart, however, and Castiel found himself staring at him once again. Was it just him, or was Dean standing really close to him?

“Nice flowers,” Dean said, gesturing at the vase on the table.

Castiel closed his eyes and smiled. “Thank you.” He decided Dean didn’t need to hear that story. “My kids can actually be thoughtful when they want to,” he chuckled.

Dean’s eyes were as green as the oak leaves outside, dappled with Autumn light.

They both jumped when Castiel’s phone rang. 

“Oh, that’s Meg’s alarm. I’ve got to pick her up,” Castiel said, reaching into his pocket.

He felt something shift between them suddenly. Dean had backed up. Castiel stared at him, feeling the need to apologize, but for what he didn’t know. 

“I, uh… I’ll be right back. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. There’s some pie from last night. I’ll uh… be right back.” He repeated. He nearly walked straight into the screen door on his way out.

“Sure thing.” Dean suppressed a smile.

At the Derby Junior Highschool, Charley Shurley was working in the library. He had a free period near the end of the day and he was looking for something to write about for his first history assignment of the year. He was looking through a stack of newspapers detailing the rich history of horticulture in Derby. He’d always liked flowers. 

As he flipped through the papers, he spotted something startlingly familiar—a photograph of his new house. He read the first few words of the article below it, then stopped abruptly. His eyes flew back to the horticulture article, but he was no longer reading it. He was wide-eyed and pale, the words ‘deceased’ and ‘tragedy’ burned into his retinas. A morbid curiosity began to rise in him, outweighing his sense of dread, and he looked back at the article. But before he could read on, he felt someone poke him in the back. Charley nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around angrily. He knew that poke.

“Gotcha!” Gabe grinned.

“Don’t do that!” Charley hissed, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Gabe ignored him and peered at the newspapers. “Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing. Working.” Charley hid the papers behind his back, but it only made Gabe more interested. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I’m skipping,” Gabe said, beginning to circle him like a dog after a treat.

“Gabriel!” Charley chided. 

Gabe eyed him. “When did you get so lame?”

“I’m taking you back to class. Now.”

But Gabe snatched the newspaper out of his hand and leapt out of Charley’s reach.

“Wait! No, don’t read it…” Charley said earnestly, but he could see Gabe’s eyes already scanning the page. 

Gabe’s expression faltered, and Charley knew he was taking in the same first few words that he had moments ago. Charley’s heart sank.

Gabe had just opened his mouth to speak when Charley saw three boys walk into the library. Charley stole the paper back, accidentally ripping it. 

“No way,” one of the boys interrupted them. 

Gabe spun around and Charley stashed the torn article away. 

The boys stopped in front of them. All three were staring beadily at Charley. The one in the middle was thickset and had a small, nasty smile. “Are you really doing your essay already? You know it’s not due for two weeks, right?” He mocked, his voice low enough to avoid detection by the librarian across the room.

Charley furrowed his brow. “Go away,” he said shortly, not wanting to start a fight with Gabe nearby.

The boy’s friends looked at him eagerly. He opened his mouth to speak again.

“You know you’re in a library, right?” Gabe, who was the shortest in the group by a head, cut him off, “Can you even read?”

Charley groaned internally. The other boys glowered at Gabe.

“Go back to daycare, kid,” one of the smaller boys said.

“Why don’t you make me?” Gabe mimicked him.

“Don’t…!” Charley moved forward to pull Gabe out of the way, but the middle boy pushed him and Charley fell back against a bookcase.

“Leave him alone!” Gabe jumped at the middle boy and punched him in the gut. He bent double, more in surprise than pain, and the other two rounded on Gabe.

It took a few seconds for the librarian to realize what was happening and rush over. Charley got to his feet and grabbed Gabe as the librarian split up the other boys. 

“That’s enough!” She said angrily. “All five of you, come with me!”

“He pushed my brother!” Gabe replied hotly.

Charley tugged hard on Gabe’s arm to shut him up. The three boys were staring mutinously at Gabe and Charley. Charley grabbed his things and his brother then followed after them, dread filling his stomach. They were in trouble now.

Dean watched from the kitchen window as Castiel walked down Elmwood Avenue to pick Meg up from daycare. He waited until he was out of sight then pulled out his phone and an old walkman from his back pocket. With one longing look at the fridge, Dean turned away from it and hurried to the crack in the wall. The EMF reading spiked, but Dean figured it would. He took pictures of the fixed crack, then he leapt catlike up the steps. He spotted the stain on the attic door right away. Castiel was right, it definitely hadn’t been there the other day. But he said he wasn’t keeping anything up there. Dean clipped the walkman to his belt, determined to inspect the attic at last. He found the string, which had been tucked into the edge of the door, and grabbed hold.

For a moment he paused, staring into one of the Shurley children’s rooms. It was a blue room with a packed bookshelf, a thick space-themed comforter, and a large desk covered in stickers where the snake’s container sat. Dean would have given anything to have a life like that. A family, a nice house, maybe some kids. Was he really going to ruin it for Castiel, just like it had been ruined for him? No, Dean thought. He was doing this to _keep_ Castiel’s life normal. Which included, he admitted with a sigh, keeping people like himself out of it. Dean refocused his attention and, with a great tug, pulled the attic door open.

Dean’s nose wrinkled immediately. An odd smell was coming from the dark square above him, not of decay or death but of something much worse—It smelled like sulfur. Dean turned his phone’s flashlight on, put his phone in his mouth, then pulled the stairs down. They snapped into place before him, and Dean put his boot on the first step.

Again he paused, but not because of the child’s room just visible beside him. A strange buzzing sound had begun to fill his head. It sounded like whispering. Dean felt a cold spell come over him. He shook it off and started to climb.

The whispering grew louder as his head approached the dark attic. He felt like it was right in his face, bouncing off his eardrums. The hair on his neck was standing up. The phone’s light flashed as he passed each dusty, metal step. Despite all of this, Dean suddenly had a horrible sensation that there was something waiting for him not in the attic, but behind him. He heard a strange, rasping sound coming from the hallway.

Just as Dean’s light reached the ceiling, a completely different sound shook him back to reality. People were shouting down the street outside. One of them was unmistakably Castiel.

Dean slid down the attic steps, landing bow-legged on the floor and dropping his phone into his hand. He heaved the stairs back up and shut the attic door, then turned to hurry back downstairs. He didn’t make it far. He stopped dead as soon as he turned around.

On the floor of the hallway were blackened footprints. They came from the shadowy corner of the hallway, shuffling and dragging towards Dean, and stopped right at the back of his heels. Dean backed up and looked around wildly. He heard another shout from outside. He hurriedly snapped a picture of the footprints and ran downstairs, cold sweat dripping down the back of his shirt.

Dean stepped out onto the front porch and spotted Castiel walking briskly towards the house. He was carrying Meg, whose eyes and cheeks were red. Their aggravated expressions were so similar that Dean could have laughed. 

“What’s going on? Is she okay?” Dean asked as Castiel came up the steps.

“Yeah,” Castiel said shortly.

Dean opened the door for them and Castiel walked inside with Meg.

“What happened?” Dean asked.

Still holding Meg, Castiel said angrily, “Some kid at daycare told Meg…” Castiel glanced at his daughter for a moment. Seeing that she wasn’t crying anymore, he went on in a slightly more controlled but no less angry voice, “they said someone died in our house and now it’s haunted.”

Dean frowned. Something roared to life inside of him. He felt hot and angry. “You know Meg,” he said, “I have a grenade launcher in my car.”

Despite her scrunched up expression, Meg gave a watery giggle.

Ten minutes later, Meg was still red-eyed but looking much happier as she sat at the table and ate the heads off of every animal cracker on her plate. Castiel was sitting with a cup of coffee that Dean had brewed for him. He looked exhausted.

“Haunted houses are pretty cool,” Dean was telling Meg. “I went to one that was haunted by a bunch of dogs. They always stole food from my brother when he wasn’t looking.”

Castiel eyed him shrewdly, “You sure the dogs did that?”

Dean grinned, making Castiel chuckle. 

Meg giggled. “I want ghost dogs. A hundred of them. They can eat my carrots.”

“You _like_ carrots.”

Meg bit the head off a cracker.

Castiel gave Dean an exaggerated look, and Dean chuckled. It was hard for Castiel to brood over what happened once Meg was happy. At first he’d ranted that he was taking Meg out of daycare right away, but after some coffee he decided against it. Mrs. Dumah had tried her best. Castiel wished he hadn’t shouted at her. 

“I feel like a terrible dad,” Castiel said quietly to Dean.

“You’re not,” Dean assured him. “Trust me.” 

Castiel smiled, but it faded quickly. Seeing that Meg was engrossed in the pictures on the cracker box, he murmured to Dean, “I knew there were a few deaths here. Before I bought the place,” he confessed, “it’s just… all the other houses were so expensive. I knew I wouldn’t be able to... “ He broke off and sighed miserably. “I’ve been around death all my life, I was planning on being around it for a living, it didn't seem like a big deal. I didn’t think about how it might affect my kids.”

Dean looked unusually grave. “You can’t blame yourself for that. People die everywhere all the time. It doesn’t mean a place is haunted,” he lied. He couldn’t stand the look on Castiel’s face. “How many ghosts have you seen at the hospital you worked at?”

“None,” Castiel admitted. “I’ve never seen a ghost.” He paused, wondering for the first time if that was still true.

There was a moment of silence unlike the comfortable ones they’d shared before. It was as if both of them were on the verge of saying something. Dean looked conflicted again. His green eyes were dark and distant.

“I assume that’s what you were going to tell me the other day,” Castiel said resignedly.

Dean looked at him. His expression was inscrutable. Before he could answer, Castiel’s phone rang. As he answered it, Dean watched Meg begin to eat the butts off of all the animal crackers.

“This is Castiel Shurley speaking,” Castiel said, but his expression fell seconds later. “Yes, I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

Dean didn’t need to ask.

“Gabe and Charley got in trouble at school.” He got up, looking frustrated.

“I can watch Meg,” Dean said. “You go.”

“I can take her with me…”

“It’s fine, really.” Dean smiled firmly.

Castiel gave Dean a deeply appreciative look then downed the rest of his coffee. He kissed the top of Meg’s head, who was quietly singing, ‘ they’re in trouble… ha ha ha…’ then hurried out the backdoor and to the garage.

Castiel returned home thirty minutes later followed by Charley and Gabe, who were both looking sulky. Dean could hear Castiel and Gabe arguing as they came inside.

“Three days! You couldn’t make it three days?”

“He pushed him, dad!”

“You should have been in class!”

“That guy was a total asshat.”

“Gabriel!”

As they entered from the livingroom they saw Meg and Dean watching ScoobyDoo on the couch. Dean gave Castiel a small wink. Castiel looked grateful, then continued to tell off his sons.

“If I hear you’ve skipped class again, even once, you’ll be grounded until Christmas,” Castiel said finally.

Gabe glared at his father. Meg had resumed singing ‘you’re in trouble’ under her breath and Dean tried to hush her.

“Sorry, dad,” Charley murmured. 

In contrast to Gabe’s hot-headed glare, Charley looked so dejected that Castiel felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself.

“And no more fights,” he said, trying to maintain the authority in his voice. “You go to a teacher next time. Or talk to me.”

Gabe was still glowering, but Charley nudged him so Gabe muttered a thoroughly unconvincing, “Sorry, dad.” 

Castiel took it. “Thank you.”

Dean had gotten Meg to stop singing, but the silence didn't last long. 

“You should go to _Dean_ next time,” she piped up. “He has a grenade lunch-er.” Then she added in a disappointed voice, “Teachers don’t get to use those.”

Castiel and Dean exchanged looks. They were trying not to smile. 

“You have a grenade launcher?” Gabe was suddenly gawking at Dean.

“It’s just a joke, Gabe,” Castiel said lightly.

Gabe resumed sulking and dropped his backpack on the floor. Charley was still looking despondent, too.

“You know, my brother got bullied a lot in school, too,” Dean said. “We both did.” 

Charley looked surprised, but Dean just smiled. 

“We moved around a lot,” he went on, “so we were always the new kids. It sucked. But fighting back never worked. Not really.”

“What did you do?” Charley asked.

“Well, I was the one who got into fights,” Dean said, “and I got into trouble. A lot of trouble. My brother, though, he handled it differently. He made a lot of friends. He talked to a lot of people and put himself out there, and eventually nobody picked on him. Even though he’s a total dork.”

Charley and Gabe smiled.

“Sammy was the smart one. He didn’t let anything stop him,” Dean said. “And you guys, you’re even luckier. You have a dad who’ll support you no matter what.”

The boys both looked at Castiel, who was smiling tiredly. “It’s true.”

Gabe contemplated this, then said, “I’d rather use the grenade launcher…”

“No grenade launchers in the house,” Castiel said sternly, but there was a smile in his eyes.

“Outside then?” Gabe asked quickly.

Castiel gave him an appraising look. “How about a karate class?”

“Hi-yah,” Meg began chopping the air with her small fist, still watching TV.

The air had lightened considerably since they got home, and soon they were all talking about karate and ScoobyDoo—both things Dean knew a surprising amount about. Castiel had picked up his son’s school bags they had abandoned at the door and was putting them away.

“Like this… hi-yah!” Dean was showing Meg, who was using her new moves on Gabe. Charley was laughing.

“Boys?” Castiel cut in, holding a torn newspaper article. “Where’d you get this?”

Charley and Gabe’s smiles fell, even as Meg karate chopped Gabe’s head. The boys exchanged looks.

“I found it in the library,” Charley confessed.

Castiel looked severe, but he wasn’t angry. Even from Dean’s distance he could see the photograph of Castiel’s house.

“Is it true?” Charley asked, as if he couldn’t help himself. “About the house?”

Castiel sighed and sat down. “Yes, it is,” he said, folding the newspaper neatly. “This is an old house. We’ve never lived in one like it before. Old houses have much more history, and it’s common for people to have passed away in them.”

“So…” Gabe asked, glancing at Meg. She was listening, too, but wasn’t taking in as much as the boys. “...it’s haunted then?”

“No,” Castiel said. “People pass away every day, everywhere, it doesn’t mean a place is haunted.” He gave Dean a subtle look. He could tell his kids felt relieved, but there was still hesitancy in their expressions. “Remember when you used to visit me and your mom at the hospital?” Castiel said gently. “It wasn’t haunted there, right?”

“No, but…” Gabe had started, then paused. He shared a look with Charley.

“What about the ghost upstairs, dad?” Charley asked quietly.

Castiel thought hard about this. Dean was listening now, too.

“I know you think you saw a ghost here, and I believe you, but…” Castiel said carefully. “I want you to give this house more time. I think once you get used to it, you’ll stop seeing things like that.”

Charley nodded, but Gabe looked conflicted. Meg was watching her father curiously.

“How about…” Dean spoke up, “in the meantime, I teach you how to protect yourself from ghosts?” He eyed Castiel.

“Yeah!” Gabe and Charley both said.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Castiel said warmly.

Dean grinned. “Alright then.” He cleared his throat, as if he was starting a lesson. “First thing you need to know about ghosts—they can’t touch salt. If you put salt by your doors and windows, they can’t come in.”

Charley, Gabe, and Meg were listening raptly as Dean told them all about ghost-protection. Castiel was smiling to himself. If he had to buy some extra salt to keep his kids happy, then he would. He was just glad Dean didn’t say that ghosts were afraid of horse manure or solid gold.

Castiel didn’t know where the time had gone. Before he knew it, Claire had come home from lacrosse and it was almost time to start dinner. She walked into the living room and stopped dramatically.

“Hi Claire, how was school?” Castiel welcomed her.

Claire stared at them all. “How come I didn’t get to skip school? You picked them up but not me!”

“They got in trouble, Claire,” Castiel explained.

Claire scoffed. “Oh, yeah, so I behave and my reward is more school. Great. I’m never behaving again.” Then she stormed up the stairs to her room.

Castiel sighed and gave Dean a weary look. Dean was trying not to laugh, but it made Castiel chuckle anyway. 

Castiel invited Dean to stay for dinner but Dean turned him down, not wanting to intrude on his family time. Castiel felt guilty for making Dean stay all afternoon, but if he was honest with himself he’d had a great time, despite having to pick up three of his kids early and explain to them that people had died in their house.

Castiel managed to coax Claire down for dinner by bringing her a peace offering: two cans of black paint. She fought back a smile when he brought them into her room, which was as good as an ‘I love you’ from Claire.

Castiel had also decided that he needed to fill Claire in about the history of their new home. It was only fair, now that everyone else knew. But when he brought it up at dinner, she surprised him.

“Oh, yeah, someone bit it here,” she said bluntly, taking a bite of potatoes. “My friend told me.”

“You mean _Kaia_ ,” Gabe teased.

“Shut up,” Claire glared at him.

Castiel sighed. At least Claire had made a friend already. “Well, it’s true. I wanted to make sure you all understood.” Claire seemed hardly affected by this information, so Castiel decided to give in and ask, “Who’s Kaia?”

She swallowed. “Some girl. Lives around here,” she said coolly. “She said there’s a legend about the h...Hey!”

Meg had begun putting all of her carrots onto Claire’s plate.

The conversation changed quickly, but Castiel’s mind had lagged behind. That was the second time he heard the word ‘legend’. The first time, Dean had said it. Was there something more about the house than just the deaths?

By the time Castiel had gotten everyone to bed, his thoughts were muddled by concern and doubt. He decided he needed to find out if there really was a legend associated with his property, if only to explain to his kids and protect them from misinformation. He went to bed extremely preoccupied, and had disturbing dreams that involved the attic and several small coffins propped up against the wall. It was past midnight when he finally fell into a deep, unencumbered sleep.

Outside, Elmwood street was dark and quiet. The only car on the road was parked a block away from number 525. The black panelling of a ‘67 Impala gleamed in the moonlight. Its engine was off and the windows were open. Dean Smith was sitting in the driver’s seat, watching Castiel’s house from a far and drinking from his flask.

“So how long do you think they’ve got?” A voice asked from the passenger’s seat. Garth Fitsgerald IV was sitting beside him.

“Dunno,” Dean said gruffly, “A week, probably. They said they’ve already seen her, and she came after me when I tried to get into the attic.” He offered Garth the flask, even though he knew he’d refuse.

“I brought ginger tea today,” Garth said, raising a thermos to his lips.

Dean eyed it suspiciously. “I thought Bess was on a roobus kick.”

Garth swallowed. “Rooibos. And we’re doing ginger this week.”

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. He remembered when Sam used to try to get him to drink kale smoothies. “Uh-huh.” He fought back a smile. “You know, she’s the one pregnant, right?”

“It’s a team sport, hombre,” Garth said cheerfully.

Dean shook his head in amusement.

“You said we’re positive for sulfur, right?”

“Yup.”

“Dang.” Garth frowned. 

“Yup,” Dean repeated. He knew what Garth was thinking—if the thing in that house really was demonic, then they had no idea how to stop it. Ghosts were one thing. They could salt and burn a body any day. But demons...

“You said he has five kids, right?”

“Yeah, but one’s at college. Four of them live there.”

Garth sighed and Dean took another swig of the flask. 

“You know,” Garth said idly, “I lived here back when it first happened. I was out there searching for those kids along with everyone else. The whole town showed up that night. They booked the mom right away but, no evidence. Everyone had their suspicions, though. Then she killed herself, right there in that attic.” Garth shook his head tragically. “And now… You said that’s where the sulfur came from?”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly.

Garth nodded again.

Dean didn’t look at him. He was watching the tiny, dark window of Castiel’s bedroom.

“You like them, don’t you?” Garth asked sagely.

He turned in his seat to see Garth looking smug. 

“Shaddup.”

Garth smiled. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it.” Then he said seriously, “We’ve gotten every family out so far. No reason to think this one will be any different. I just wish we could stop this thing for good, you know? But if it is a demon… well, it would explain why nothing’s worked,” Garth said quietly.

“I’ve never seen it happen so quickly before,” Dean admitted. “They’re already seeing full body apparitions. And Cas still doesn’t believe it.”

Garth chose not to comment on this nickname. “Well, that’s good, right? If all goes well this thing will finally reveal itself. We’ll be able to kill it and the Shurleys will never know.”

For some reason, this made the knot in Dean’s chest tighten. 

“He likes you, too, you know,” Garth tried again. “I could tell. I’ll bet if you just talked to him…”

“No,” Dean looked at him severely. “Castiel has a nice, normal family.”

“So do I, Dean,” Garth said. “So does Sam. You don’t want something like that for yourself?”

Dean took a long swig from his flask. “I may not know much, but I know one thing—I’m not going to go messing up Cas’s life.”

Garth could tell the conversation was over. He looked at Dean sadly for a moment before changing the subject. “Well, there’s a good chance this’ll all be over soon.”

“And if Mrs. Bishop is a demon?” Dean asked.

“Then we’ll give her everything we’ve got. Hell, you may get to use that grenade launcher on her. No house, no problem, right?” Garth chuckled.

Dean smiled slightly.

“How great would it be,” Garth said, his smile fading, “if we finally ended this? You know, the bodies they never found? The last two kids? I’ll bet you anything they’re still in the house, stashed away in the walls like the first two.” Garth looked at the house gravely.

Dean took another swig from his flask.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel awoke Thursday morning feeling oddly drained. He couldn’t remember why at first, until he recalled the conversation he’d had with his kids the previous day, that and his new mission to research the legend associated with their house. 

Castiel left his room to go make coffee, smiling slightly at the lines of salt he made around the kids’ doors the previous night, but he noticed right away that one line had been breached. Castiel found Charley’s salt line broken and saw Charley sleeping against the wall in the corner of the hallway landing. Castiel hurried over to him. 

Charley didn’t have any memory of it and looked confused when Castiel woke him. Shaken, Castiel walked him back to bed to let him get a bit more sleep before school.

It had been years since Charley sleepwalked _—_ not since their mom, Meg, died. Castiel remembered bringing up their mom the previous day and he wondered if Charley had been thinking about her before bed. At least he didn’t try to go down the stairs. Castiel wondered if he needed to put up a baby gate again. How would Charley react to that?

The morning bustle drove Castiel’s worries from his mind, especially because after Charley, Gabe, and Claire left for the school Meg threw a tantrum about going to daycare. She outright refused, and Castiel was left with the task of finding a sitter so he could go to work. After a bit of internal debate, he decided to call Dean.

It sounded as if Castiel had woken him, but Dean agreed to come by right away. Castiel made extra coffee for him, set up a few activities for Meg to occupy herself with, and made her promise to be on her best behavior. She capitalized on the opportunity, and Castiel may have agreed to make M&M tacos for dinner in order to get to work on time. 

Once Dean arrived, Castiel thanked him profusely and hurried out the door. As soon as he was gone, Meg and Dean both looked at each other. 

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Dean asked her.

She nodded. “Yup.”

Dean’s eyes flicked to the fridge. Five minutes later they were in the living room, watching TV and eating large slices of pie.

“Don’t tell your dad,” Dean said.

Meg gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, her mouth full of pie.

Castiel’s main office was located in a building just outside of St. Francis Hospital in Wichita. He managed to arrive on time, or at least before his first client of the day. He usually spent the time in-between clients catching up on emails, but today was different. Castiel was determined to figure out if there really was a legend about his house. He spent every free moment on his computer and he even skipped his lunch break, opting to grab a snack from the vending machines instead, but all he found were the same articles he discovered when he first considered buying the house—Four children disappeared and were discovered dead in the house, and the mother committed suicide. 

It felt like a long day, although Castiel was grateful he didn’t get any more calls from the school. He just hoped Dean was still holding on to his sanity.

Luckily, Dean was perfectly sane by the time Castiel got home. The house was still standing, and Meg was napping on the couch. According to Dean, the only problem they had was when Meg didn’t want any of the food Castiel left for her lunch, so Dean had to get creative. He made mac and cheese with…

“Marshmallow fluff,” Dean said.

Castiel looked at him incredulously. 

Dean grinned sheepishly. “I used to make it for my brother when he wouldn’t eat.”

Castiel smiled, then gave Dean a ‘what-ever works’ kind of look. Meg had apparently enjoyed it. 

“I can’t thank you enough,” Castiel said.

“It’s no trouble. Meg’s a great kid.”

Castiel put his things away and headed into the kitchen. He chatted quietly with Dean for a bit, not wanting to disturb Meg in the livingroom. It was a peaceful sort of moment.

As they talked, a thought occurred to Castiel. Admittedly it was one that had been visiting him all afternoon. He looked at Dean, his smile fading slowly.

“Dean, can I ask you something?” Castiel said.

Dean listened.

It was Castiel’s turn to look conflicted. He took a steadying breath and asked, “The, uh… the legend about this house. Could you tell me about it?”

Dean’s expression became hesitant. He still looked mildly curious, but he was now thinking very hard. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“No,” Castiel admitted. “But I need to know. Before one of my kids hears about it.”

Dean licked his lips. He still looked unsure, but Castiel’s resolved expression strengthened him. “Alright, well, you said you already knew someone died here, right? A woman and her kids?”

Castiel nodded.

“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “Well, about ten years ago, during the summer, four kids disappeared from this house. The whole town came out to look for them. The police questioned the mother, but there was no proof she had anything to do with it. Her husband was on a business trip, I think. Well, days passed without any sign of them, no leads, nothing, and people started talking. They’d heard the mom got questioned and they started thinking she had something to do with it after all. The rumor was that she had gone crazy... and killed them.” Dean paused. Castiel didn’t say anything, so Dean went on, “Word traveled fast and the police detained Mrs. Bishop again. When they searched the house, they found a sledgehammer with a bloodstain on it, but the blood couldn’t be confirmed to be human. At some point Mr. Bishop came home, found his wife in custody and his children gone, and he just left. He wasn’t considered a suspect as far as I know. Everyone just felt bad for him.” Dean took a resigned breath, “Months later, Mrs. Bishop killed herself in the attic. According to the legend, she died holding the sledgehammer. The paramedics who found her never spoke about it. It’s just one of those things people talk about, I guess.”

Dean gave Castiel a moment to process this before continuing.

“About a year later, a new family moved in and tried to remodel the kitchen…” Dean stopped. He must have told this story a hundred times, yet he couldn’t get it out this time. Castiel was holding up better than Dean thought, but Dean felt like he was poisoning him. Guilt filled him like physical pain, and it took a great effort to get out the final words. “...they found one of the kids in the wall.”

Castiel’s expression faltered at last. He looked unrecognizable from that young man smiling in the photograph in Castiel’s bedroom. When Castiel finally moved, the motion was jarring. He wiped his mouth with his hand. “What...what about the second…?” He rasped, giving Dean permission to continue.

Dean sighed deeply. “They found the second kid, same as the first, hidden in the walls… but the other two were never found. The police searched the house but they didn’t find anything. The legend goes that Mrs. Bishop now haunts this house with her sledgehammer, looking for more kids to replace the two taken from the house,” he said carefully. “There’s been about ten families to move in since, and none of them have stayed more than a few months.”

Castiel tried to speak, but he couldn’t move his jaw. He felt like he’d been turned to stone. He knew about the murders, and the suicide, and finding the bodies in the house, but he’d never put it together like this. He never realized how horrible it all was. He felt sick to his stomach. Guilt and shame engulfed him, and he wanted to go to the next room, pick up Meg, and never let her go. 

His misery must have shown on his face, because Dean reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Castiel smiled weakly. Dean had a firm grim, but it was comforting. Even though Castiel spent almost every day putting his hands on people at his work, this one single touch was something he hadn’t felt for a long time.

Finally Castiel cleared his throat. “That’s… that’s terrible. I knew about some of it but… “ he sighed. Dean’s hand was still on his shoulder, and Castiel felt the urge to say something about it, but he held himself back. He didn’t want to lose that touch. He tried to think of something else to say. “You’re not… you’re not one of those weird, paranormal people, are you?” He tried to joke.

“No, no way,” Dean said, smiling shakily along with Cas, but he removed his hand all the same.

“Right. You’re just a plumber… and electrician, mechanic, babysitter…”

“...and I make a mean Manhattan,” Dean added, flashing him that toothy grin.

Castiel chuckled, but the sound fell away quickly. His brain was so full of information that it seemed to have reached saturation point and stopped working properly. A part of him wanted to take his kids and move to the mountains, far away from everything. And a part of him, he realized with another wave of guilt, wanted to take Dean with.

Dean licked his lips, staring at Castiel. His grin had faded, and he no longer looked sad or hesitant. He looked exactly as he did when he first showed up on Castiel’s doorstep—freckly and tan, with eyes as green as the oak leaves dappled with Autumn light.

Castiel watched Dean move closer if it were a dream. Castiel didn’t move. He could smell Dean again. It was that same combination of grass, sweat, and engine oil that was so alluring. Dean’s eyes dropped to Castiel’s lips.

Suddenly, a noise from the living room made them jump apart. It took a moment for them to realize it was Meg calling sleepily for her dad. Whatever magic had been keeping Castiel tethered to the cabinet broke and he suddenly felt unable to stand still. He glanced at Dean and felt electrocuted. Neither seemed able to speak, so Castiel went into the living room without a word.

Castiel and Dean seemed to agree not to talk about what had just happened. As Meg awoke, she began insisting on putting marshmallows in everything. Dean gave Castiel an apologetic smile behind her back, but even that brief eye contact was short lived. Before Castiel knew it, Charley, Gabe, and Claire were home from school and Dean was heading back to his place.

The rest of the day pushed Dean from Castiel’s mind. It wasn’t until the kids were in bed that Castil was able to fully recount everything that had happened. He cleaned up the kitchen in a daze, remembering what Dean told him about the Bishop family. It left him feeling tainted—Cursed. But then he remembered what happened after Dean had told him the legend. 

Castiel’s heart went from sinking with dread to pounding with adrenaline so fast that he felt like he was on a rollercoaster, even as he stood completely still with his hands on the kitchen sink. Had he been about to kiss Dean? _Did a mother really murder her children in his house?_ Had Dean really been about to kiss him? _Had Mrs. Bishop really hidden their bodies in the walls?_ He could still smell Dean, still feel his warmth on his lips… _Were there still two of the Bishop children hidden in his house?_ And then Castiel’s mind began to show him what would have happened if Meg had stayed asleep for just a moment longer…

Castiel rubbed his tired eyes. He was exhausted. Filled with uncertainty, he gazed into the livingroom, absently staring into the shadowy space beside the fireplace. He spotted a flier on the counter that Charley had brought home from school. There was a Halloween event coming up. They’d have to make costumes and buy candy soon. Then Castiel’s eye fell to something lying near the backdoor. Thinking it was something that had fallen out of one of the boys’ backpacks earlier that day, Castiel crossed the livingroom to pick it up. But it wasn’t anything from school. It was the sledgehammer from the basement. The one Castiel didn’t remember buying, but was there when they needed it the day he and his family had moved it. Castiel picked it up. It still had paint from Meg’s art kit. Castiel chipped some of it off, red flakes falling to the floor, but there was something beneath it—it looked like a stain. Castiel looked at his hands and saw the red paint was an odd color. It left rusty, brownish residue on his fingers.

Inspired by either anger or fear, Castiel didn’t know which, he went back to the kitchen and put the hammer in the trash. He’d buy a new one the next day. Then he rinsed his hands in the sink, turned the lights off, then went to double check that the front door was locked. The glass panes on either side of the door showed the blurry, darkened porch outside. No figures were standing there that night. Castiel took solace in that, but as he made to walk up the stairs, he glanced back at the peephole. He paused, staring at it. The silver circle gleamed innocuously against the wooden door, yet Castiel could feel his heart pounding.

As if to defy his own fear, he walked back to the front door, put his hand on it, and looked resolutely through the peephole. For a moment he was surprised—All he saw was darkness, even though he should have been able to see the porch. 

Castiel squinted through the peephole, and suddenly the darkness vanished, revealing the dark porch outside. Castiel leapt back in shock. His eyes darted to the glass on either side of the door and saw a dark figure flit past it. Before Castiel’s brain could catch up with his eyes, he heard a squeak from the kitchen and turned just in time to see water burst from the sink. A deep, glugging noise echoed through the walls and the water turned black. A coppery, putrid smell filled Castiel’s nose, making him gag almost immediately. He covered his nose and, fuelled by pure adrenaline, ran to the sink to shut off the water, but a loud crack from somewhere behind him made him spin around. Castiel stared in disbelief as he saw the crack in the wall return. Dust and paint trickled onto the floor, as if someone had just thrown something heavy from the top of the stairs.

At last Castiel stormed over to the sink and turned it off. The gurgling stopped and the smell dissipated. Castiel looked around heatedly. Nothing moved. Everything was dark and silent in the house. The only sign that anything had happened was the crack in the wall. Castiel suddenly grabbed the hammer out of the garbage, unlocked the front door, and wrenched it open. 

No one was there. The cool air hit his face, and he realized he was sweating. Anger was coursing through him, but in his moonlit solitude it faded, revealing bone-deep fear. He walked around the side of the house, dropped the hammer in the garbage bin, then went back inside. He slammed the door and leaned heavily against it, his whole body shaking.

Castiel didn’t sleep much that night. He kept tossing and turning, listening for any sign of movement in the hallway. The salt shaker was sitting next to his clock on the nightstand. The children’s rooms were all lined with salt. The clock beside his bed kept making huge jumps in time. At three o ‘clock in the morning he woke suddenly, his heart pounding, to see Charley climbing under the covers. Castiel was just glad he wasn’t sleep walking down the stairs. 

“Char…” Castiel was surprised to hear how groggy his voice was when he spoke. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah,” Charley mumbled. “That guy. He was tied up again. He was hurt. And I kept hearing weird voices.”

Castiel’s eyes were closed as he listened. “Do you hear them now?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

Castiel lay awake, listening to his son fall back asleep. As he drifted off, his thoughts melted seamlessly into dreams, which all involved Kelly, a faceless man in a chair, and Meg’s car skidding off a dark, wet road.


	6. Chapter 6

To Castiel’s relief, Meg was willing to give daycare another try the following morning, so after Charley, Gabe, and Claire left for school Castiel walked Meg down the block then went into work early. As he pulled out of the driveway he spotted his gaunt-faced neighbor across the street watering his flowers. He looked up as Castiel drove past and gave him a silent nod. Castiel smiled back awkwardly, suddenly remembering how he’d found him in the front yard the other night in nothing but his pajamas and a robe. 

As Castiel walked into his building he greeted the other therapists and nurses then went right to his office. It was a small room with a desk and computer connected to a larger workroom with mats, physical therapy equipment, and an exam table. Castiel shut his office door and got to work.

Only it wasn’t office work he’d come in early for. Instead, Castiel pulled up his web browser and began to research ghosts. To his surprise, one of the first things he found was salt. He quickly grabbed a pen and paper and began making a list. By the time he finished researching, the list read:

 _Salt_ _  
__Sage (see wiki)_ _  
__Iron_ _  
__big dog?_

Castiel studied the list, thankful that no one else could see it. He felt crazy. He considered texting Dean to ask his opinion, but he didn’t want Dean to think he was a freak who believed in ghosts. Dean had probably just gotten lucky when making up ghost repellents for the kids. 

On his lunch break Castiel drove around town picking up supplies. When he went to the hardware store he found the same old man with dusty hair behind the register. He recognized Castiel right away.

“Fixing up that Elmwood house, huh?” He asked as he rang up Castiel’s new sledgehammer.

They chatted for a bit, and the man was happy to hear that Castiel was putting some work into his house, even if Castiel kept the specifics from him. It was, structurally speaking at least, a very nice house. But when Castiel mentioned he was getting help from the local repairman, Dean Smith, the man gave him a funny look.

“I don’t know him,” he said simply. “Must be new. I have some business cards upfront if you ever need anything. Painters, masons, the usual.”

“You don’t know Dean Smith?” Castiel had paused taking out his cash.

“Nope.”

Castiel blinked. He described Dean to him, but the man just chuckled and shrugged. He offered to put some of Mr. Smith’s business cards up front if he came by, then wished Castiel a good day.

On his way out Castiel stopped at the bulletin board. When he saw that the man hadn’t made a mistake, and there were no cards for a repairmen named Dean, he felt a twinge of concern constrict his throat. He ended up grabbing a card for a fence company and headed out.

Castiel lingered in front of a pet store on his way to his car. Several people had stopped to coo at a pile of puppies snoozing in the sunny window, but Castiel stared right past them at a large, square-jawed mutt in the back. He wondered if, like cats, dogs could see ghosts. He checked his watch and hurried back to his car, but he stopped again when he saw a familiar face. It wasn’t someone walking around that crisp, Autumn day, but rather a face on a poster stapled to a telephone pole.

The poster was made on cheap printer paper and advertised a business of some sort. Two young men stared cockily at the camera, their expressions so serious that it looked ludicrous. But Castiel had seen them before—they were the two young men who were in his backyard the day he moved in. Beneath them was the title:

Ghost Facers _  
__Got a ghost problem? We got a ghost solution._

Castiel stared at it in resignation. He’d wondered if that was what they’d been doing at his house. He glanced at the phone number at the bottom of the poster. Deciding he wasn’t _that_ crazy, Castiel went back to his car, his confused thoughts returning to Dean Smith.

When Castiel arrived home, he didn’t pick up Meg immediately. He spent the time laying down salt at all the windows and any door they didn’t normally use. He even put some outside at the entrance to the cellar basement, which he made doubly sure was locked. Then he went inside and looked up ‘how to sage a house’. 

He felt more ridiculous than ever as he walked around the house, sage in one hand, phone in the other, while he read the WikiHow instructions. He’d just opened the front door to finish the ritual and ‘send all the evil spirits out’ (Castiel hoped rolling his eyes too much wouldn’t nullify the process) when he saw someone walking up to his front porch. 

Castiel quickly extinguished the sage and held it behind his back.

“Hey.” Dean Smith grinned as he came up the steps. He spotted Castiel’s wide-eyed look and the plumes of smoke vanishing in the sunlight and gave Castiel a curious look. “Am I interrupting something?”

“H...hey, Dean,” Castiel cleared his throat. “No. Nope. Just doing some cleaning.”

After another curious look, Dean accepted this answer and didn’t ask any more questions. Grateful, Castiel let him inside, subtly tossing the remains of the sage out the front door behind him.

“I was in the neighborhood and you weren’t answering your phone,” Dean said casually, “so I wanted to check in.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, “I’ve just been a bit preoccupied today. I came home early to get some things done before the kids came home. Guess I got distracted.”

Dean looked understanding enough. “How’s Meg? Did she go to daycare today?”

“Yes,” Castiel said in relief. “I think she was just overwhelmed yesterday. Thank you again for coming to the rescue.”

“Anytime,” he grinned. “We had fun.”

Castiel caught himself smiling. Dean really had saved the day, on more than one occasion. Plus, all of his kids liked him. Surely those were the signs of a good man, even if the local hardware store had never heard of him? Dr. Fitzgerald had vouched for him, too, and he was a pillar of the community.

Castiel realized an awkward silence had settled over them and he quickly said, “Coffee?”

“Sure,” Dean looked relieved.

Castiel moved to the sink to get a pot started. They made small talk as Castiel worked, his mind a little more at ease, but when he turned the sink on to fill the pot, a loud, gurgling sound came from the wall. He leapt back from the sink in shock, dropping the pot and spilling water all over the floor. It was like the world around him had stopped spinning. His ears were ringing and he could hear whispering underneath the rush of the water. Dean had stopped talking. Castiel was frozen in the middle of the kitchen, the color draining from his face. 

Dean strode over to the clear, clean water and turned the sink off. The silence was as loud as the rushing water.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dean asked, gripping Castiel’s shoulder.

Dean’s touch seemed to wake Castiel. He saw the spilled water all over the floor, heard the birds singing outside, then felt a wave of humiliation wash over him. He took a deep breath, collecting himself quickly.

“Sorry, I just… I thought I heard… it’s nothing,” Castiel said quickly, but his voice trembled.

Dean didn’t let go of him. He looked more serious than Castiel had ever seen him. Castiel tried to relax, but he could feel the tightness in his expression giving him away. 

“I’ll get some towels,” Dean offered.

“It’s fine, really,” Castiel insisted. “I’ll clean it up.”

But neither had moved. Dean rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. All of the anxiety and fear building in Castiel seemed to have reached critical mass and he bowed his head to hide his face, ashamed of himself, but Dean didn’t back away. In the next instant, Castiel felt himself being pulled into a hug.

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d been embraced like that. Dean was slightly taller than him, and it made him feel safe and protected. It seemed to last for ages, and Castiel was perfectly fine with that. It wasn’t until he took a deep, steadying breath that Dean pulled away.

“I uh… I’ll get a mop,” Castiel said.

Dean let him go to the laundry room, his expression inscrutable. Then picked up the coffee pot and began reassembling it. Castiel came out with a mop and began wiping the floor. He felt mortified again. Dean wasn’t speaking, and Castiel couldn’t help but fear what was going through Dean’s mind. Still, he felt relieved when Dean turned the sink on without issue. Dean gave him a small smile before making coffee. Castiel flushed a little, but smiled back. Once the coffee was brewing and the water was mopped up, Castiel felt calm enough to speak.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you,” he said, holding the mop handle.

Dean smiled slightly. “I don’t spook that easily.”

Castiel was grateful for that.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Dean said, his tone surprisingly gentle. “There’s another festival going on this weekend. I think it’s Harvest Fest or something. Do you uh… well, do you and your kids want to go?”

Castiel blinked. He had to repeat the question in his head. He was sure Dean meant, go with him, but did it also mean… was Dean asking him _out_?

Before Castiel could even contemplate it, he realized, “My eldest son is coming to stay tomorrow…”

Dean’s expression fell. “Oh, yeah okay,” he said dismissively. “Another time, then.”

Castiel watched him look away. Dean didn’t look like himself. His shoulders were slumped forward. Castiel’s brain felt waterlogged. 

“Uh, Dean?” Castiel asked, not entirely sure what he wanted to say.

Dean glanced back at him, his eyes doing the familiar flick upwards from his lips to his eyes. Castiel stared at him, unable to think of anything other than the previous afternoon when Dean had been so close.

There was another moment of awkward silence. But then, just as he had the other day, Dean moved closer. Castiel didn’t stop him. Dean put his hand on the counter behind Castiel. Still, Castiel didn’t stop him. He couldn’t believe how green his eyes were in the shady kitchen. Dean reached out and Castiel felt him take the mop out of his hand. The smell of grass and sweat filled Castiel’s senses and, with no one home to interrupt them this time, Dean leaned in and kissed him.

It was like someone had lit fireworks in Castiel’s stomach. Dean’s lips were soft and warm, and Castiel was temporarily incapacitated by own luck. Dean was kissing him. And then all too quickly it was over.

Dean took a step back. He was looking at Castiel apprehensively. Castiel didn’t understand.

“Sorry, I… I shouldn’t have…” Dean mumbled, wide-eyed.

Castiel squinted at him. Dean looked embarrassed—No, he looked _rejected_. Finally, it hit him. Castiel hadn’t moved at all during that kiss. He’d just stood there in a daze, temporarily forgetting how to move and, more importantly, how to kiss someone back.

“I thought you were…” Dean tried to justify it, but then gave up. “...forget it.” 

Castiel wasn’t listening. His heart was pounding. Dean was turning away. Castiel moved off of the counter and Dean turned to face him. Castiel was struck by how gorgeous Dean looked when he was nervous. He didn’t think a guy like Dean ever got nervous. And then Castiel was putting his hands on Dean’s waist, backing him smoothly into the fridge, and kissing him back at last.

The fireworks in Castiel’s stomach erupted throughout his entire body, and from the way Dean’s hands jumped to Castiel’s face he knew Dean was feeling them, too. Within seconds they were kissing each other like teenagers. A few magnets fell to the floor, unnoticed by either of them as they made out against the fridge.

Dean opened the kiss and Castiel tasted him properly for the first time. He didn’t taste like grass or oil. His taste was wholly and purely _Dean_. It was a divine taste. No matter how deeply or how many times he kissed him, Castiel couldn’t get enough of it.

Dean’s hands moved up and down Castiel’s back, and Castiel could feel the muscle in Dean’s arms and the curve of his chest beneath his own. And then they were moving. They backed up blindly, hitting the counter and still kissing one another. Dean’s hands moved to Castiel’s shirt, and Castiel reached up to remove his tie. He wasn’t thinking anymore. He just wanted as much of Dean as Dean was willing to give him.

It turned out, Dean was willing to give him quite a lot. Dean helped pull Castiel’s tie free, then reached down to remove his belt. Castiel could feel Dean’s hips leaning against his own, his work-worn jeans rubbing against Castiel’s slacks. Dean got his belt off, and then they were moving again. They must have hit every surface on the way to the dining room table. Dean laughed at one point, making Castiel smile, but no smile or laugh lasted long.

They reached the table and Dean pressed Castiel against it. Castiel’s heart was doing gymnastics by that point, and there was an aching warmth spreading through him that he hadn’t experienced in years. He’d forgotten how good it felt—how pure and human. Dean put his hands on Castiel’s hips, weaving his fingers through the belt loops, and began kissing down Castiel’s neck. Castiel tipped his head back, panting for air. Dean’s lips were like fire, leaving warm, wet patches everywhere they went. His hand travelled down and, when Castiel felt him hesitate, Castiel took Dean’s elbow and moved his hand for him, letting Dean firmly grip Castiel’s ass. Dean looked up and grinned at him. Castiel grinned back.

Dean massaged Castiel’s ass while Castiel kissed him again and again, rubbing his hips against the front of Dean’s jeans. When Dean hummed a groan through the kiss and leaned heavily into him, Castiel knew it was time. Except, when they tried to get onto the table, several of Meg’s toys fell off and began making noise. 

Castiel looked around, flushing slightly. Dean stooped down quickly to pick them up. When he stood back up, Castiel’s eyes fell to Dean’s jeans. Dean stopped and glanced down.

“Bed?” Castiel breathed.

Dean swallowed. “Absolutely.”

Castiel led Dean up the stairs and into his room, grateful he’d cleaned up a bit that morning and gotten rid of all the children’s toys. Granted, there could have been a horse in the room and Dean wouldn’t have noticed.

Castiel shut his door and Dean immediately resumed their kiss. They maneuvered blindly onto the bed, bouncing slightly as they fell in unison. Then Castiel pulled Dean on top of him and Dean followed without hesitation. 

Dean, who was apparently a prolific multi-tasker, unbuttoned Castiel’s shirt as they made out on the bed. Castiel helped get his own shirt off, then lifted Dean’s t-shirt over his head. Dean had a necklace on, and it fell perfectly into the slight dip of his chest. Dean sat up and unbuttoned Castiel’s pants, then tugged them down his thighs. Castiel wasn’t as muscled as Dean, but he had a naturally smooth body. Dean’s eyes washed over him, making Castiel flush. He saw Dean’s ears redden, too. Then Dean moved his hands up Castiel’s hips and tugged his briefs down.

Castiel had forgotten what it felt like to be so exposed to someone. More importantly, he’d forgotten how much he liked it. It seemed Dean did, too. Color flooded Dean’s chest as he gazed down at Castiel’s naked body.

Dean’s eyes flashed and he quickly stepped back to remove his own jeans and boxers. Castiel felt himself perform a similar, heated gaze as Dean stripped in front of him. Dean was freckled right down to his navel, disappearing into a well-trimmed patch of hair. He had prominent tan lines that stopped at the defined curve of his hips. Castiel had forgotten how gorgeous a man’s body could be.

Dean leaned back over Castiel and kissed him deeply. Castiel put his arms around him and their bodies met. Dean’s warm weight was intoxicating. They shared long, hungry kisses as they lay naked atop one another, their hands roaming up and down bare, heated skin, taking in every curve and shape of each other. 

Dean only pulled away to murmur in Castiel’s ear, “Cas, how do you want to do it?”

Castiel closed his eyes, thinking. He knew what that meant, but he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Sensing this, Dean asked instead, “Have you ever bottomed?” 

“I have, yeah, years ago.” Castiel looked at him. His voice was thick and raspy.

Dean took a moment to consider this. He looked like he was having a similarly hard time thinking. “Okay,” he said at last, then sat up. “Stay,” he told Castiel.

Castiel laid back down, grinning.

Dean sat on Castiel’s hips then grabbed his jeans from where they’d been thrown across the bed. Castiel took the opportunity to admire the sight before him—Dean on his lap, completely naked and hard, his erection a perfect, rosy hue as it sat beside Castiel’s. Castiel moved his hands up Dean’s thighs, feeling the firm muscle buried there.

Dean flashed him a grin. He’d taken a condom out of his wallet.

“You keep those on you?” Castiel asked in amusement.

Dean looked guilty for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “A guy can hope, can’t he?”

Castiel chuckled. That cocky, toothy grin of his looked even better than usual.

Condom in hand, Dean smoothed his palms down Castiel’s hips. Castiel lay back and sighed. Dean’s hands were calloused, but the sensation was heavenly, especially as those hands moved down the dip in Castiel’s stomach and over his erection. Castiel’s eyes fluttered.

Dean watched hungrily as he gave Castiel a few slow, experimental strokes. Castiel’s body warmed instantly. His light, blue eyes met Dean’s, and Dean smiled at him. Castiel tried to smile back, but Dean’s hand wrapped fully around his cock and Castiel groaned softly instead. Dean’s expression turned fiery. He let Castiel go and tore open the condom packet. 

Castiel watched as Dean fished out the condom. He thought Dean had wanted to top, at least he thought that was what he meant by asking, but instead Dean took Castiel’s cock and set the condom over him. The latex was warm and wet as Dean slid it down with another long stroke.

Castiel’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Dean flashed him a smile, and Castiel returned it this time. Heart pounding, he watched hazily as Dean sat up. With Castiel’s hand supporting Dean’s hips, he lined himself up over Castiel’s cock. Castiel could feel the heat of Dean’s entrance press against him, and Castiel’s chest swelled. Then Dean planted one hand on Castiel’s chest, keeping one between his legs, and sank down slowly.

That first press into his body was absolute bliss. Dean was hot and firm around the head of Castiel’s cock, and Castiel had to resist the urge to buck his hips. Castiel’s hands shook on Dean’s sides as he let Dean adjust himself. Dean’s expression had become as dazed as Castiel’s, but he kept going, swallowing him up inch by inch. A short groan from Dean made Castiel realize that he was sitting flush on Castiel’s lap. 

Dean was sweating, and Castiel could feel his heartbeat inside his body. Castiel smoothed his hands over Dean’s hips, making Dean close his eyes in pleasure.

“‘Sthat good?” Dean mumbled.

Castiel nodded weakly. “Yes.”

Dean smiled at him, his lips parted slightly. Then he sat up a little and sank down again. This time, Castiel groaned. He gripped Dean’s hips tightly, his fingers trembling. They got adjusted to each other quickly, and soon Dean was moving up and down on Castiel’s cock. Castiel rolled his hips into him, making Dean’s necklace bounce on his glistening chest. Both of them were panting with pleasure in no time. Castiel dropped one hand to Dean’s cock and touched it for the first time, and Dean’s expression opened up. He leaned back slightly, finding that perfect angle. Castiel could see the muscles in his thighs straining.

“F...yeah, Cas. That’s so good.”

Dean began riding him in earnest, letting his cock slide in and out of Castiel’s hand. Castiel couldn’t stop watching him, even as his own pleasure kept tempting his eyes to close. Dean was gorgeous,—his body undulating on Castiel’s cock as he leaked through Castiel’s fist.

Soon Dean was leaning over Castiel, bending his knees and letting Castiel thrust into him. Castiel took him into his arms, kissing him distractedly. Dean groaned into the kiss. They shared messy, breathless kisses as they moved, rolling their hips in unison. Castiel raked his hands up Dean’s back, then moved down to hold his ass.

Dean’s groans were like music. Castiel could listen to them forever. Inspired, he began to sit up. Dean followed his lead without question, and before Dean knew it he was on his back with Castiel atop of him, rolling his hips into him. Dean swore, gripping Castiel encouragingly.

“Oh god, Cas, Cas...”

Castiel wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he _needed_ Dean. And by the sound of it, Dean had no problem with this. Castiel felt Dean’s legs cross over his back, urging him on. Soon they were both groaning, no longer able to meet each other’s lips. Dean began panting Castiel’s name and Castiel could tell it was a warning. Castiel upped the pace, feeling the warmth in him expanding powerfully, threatening to overtake him. Dean’s hands held tight around Castiel’s shoulders as he muttered strings of encouragement into his ear.

Suddenly, Castiel heard Dean’s breath hitch. Dean’s body began to shudder, then he made a sound that caused Castiel’s orgasm to leap to the surface. Dean moaned in ecstasy, his head tipping back and his back arching off the bed. Castiel could feel him coming. He dropped his head onto Dean’s shoulder and groaned, his own orgasm bursting from him so quickly it was almost startling. He felt Dean’s body shudder around Castiel and Dean lose his ability to speak entirely. Castiel’s thrusts became slower and deeper, like he was trying to bury himself inside of Dean. Their bodies trembled in unison, shaking atop one another. Slowly, Castiel’s movements began to subside, and he collapsed onto Dean’s hot, pulsing body.

Dean’s arms tightened around Castiel. Castiel pushed his own arms beneath him to hold him back. It took them a while to catch their breath. After a few long, blissful minutes, Castiel finally picked his head up to check on Dean.

Dean looked dazed and flushed, but he grinned at Castiel. Castiel grinned back. Dean pulled him into a kiss, savoring the taste of their post-orgasm bliss. Neither seemed to want to do anything else. They kissed for what felt like days. At last Castiel pulled out of Dean, kissed his forehead, then got up to get a washcloth for them.

“Cas…” Dean said hoarsely, watching him turn on the bathroom light. “That was…” he rose his brows and gave him an impressed look.

Castiel chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Dean grinned, looking beautifully disheveled. Castiel wiped his chest down, disposed of his condom, then brought the washcloth to Dean. 

“I haven’t done that in a while,” Castiel confessed. 

“Could have fooled me,” Dean said contentedly. When he was finished, Castiel rinsed the washcloth in the sink before rejoining Dean on the bed.

They laid back down together, Castiel pulling Dean to him as he lay on his back. Dean kissed him lazily, enjoying the silence. The window was open and a cool breeze was blowing in. It was extremely relaxing. Castiel could have slept for days, basking in Dean’s warmth.

“So, I gotta ask,” Dean rasped, laying his head beside Castiel’s. “You said you hadn’t bottomed in a while…” He paused. When Castiel’s smile didn’t fade, Dean went on, “When was the last time you did?”

Castiel looked like he was contemplating his answer. He knew it wasn’t going to be what Dean anticipated. He’d been married to two women, afterall. The truth was that Castiel had never actually slept with a man at all. But… “Well,” Castiel said, “Meg and I…” he paused, smiling slightly at the look on Dean’s face.

Dean’s eyebrows had risen again and he was grinning in surprise. “I knew you were secretly kinky.”

Castiel laughed, rumbling beneath Dean. “Meg was always, uh, trying new things.” He smiled fondly, but then his expression faltered. “Sorry, that’s probably the last thing I should be talking about right now.”

Dean shook his head in amusement. “It’s okay. I’m not the jealous type.” He paused again. “Well, no, I am. But…” He found himself glancing at the photographs in the bookcase. He held Castiel a little closer. “I can see how happy they made you.”

Castiel’s smile warmed. He kissed Dean as if in thanks.

“Can I ask about her?” Dean asked gently. “Like, how’d you two meet?”

Castiel smiled. “We went to college together. She used to babysit Jack, actually.”

Dean gave him a sly look. “Oh Cas, the babysitter?”

Castiel chuckled. “We went to Med School together. We dated for a while, started our residency together, she became a nurse and then, well, she got pregnant with Charley. So we got married.”

Dean listened silently, enjoying the sentimental look on Castiel’s face.

“We named him after my father, Chuck. He disappeared when I was a kid, but then, well, when Charles was a baby we found out my father was still alive, living in another country with another family.”

Dean’s brows came together. “What a dick.”

“Yeah. My older brothers were pissed,” Castiel smiled darkly. “I was, too. So Charles became Charley,” he said simply. “Then we had Gabe, named after my step-brother—he did a lot for me when I was growing up. Then came Claire—Meg and I both liked the name. But by the time she became pregnant again, we’d kind of run out of names,” he chuckled. “We called the baby ‘little Meg’ all the way through her pregnancy, and it just stuck. I’m grateful for it because, well, a year later Meg died.”

Dean rubbed Castiel’s hand, looking at him sympathetically. Castiel intertwined their fingers together. Seeing that Dean still looked interested, Castiel went on.

“Meg, she...she had problems,” he explained. “She’d gotten better but... those kinds of problems… they always come back. She’d been off her meds for a few days,” he sighed. “I should’ve known. Shouldn’t have let her drive. Someone hit her and, well, she came into the hospital while I was working. There was no chance.”

Dean frowned. He could see the photograph of Castiel and Meg in his head, beaming at the camera. “I’m so sorry Cas.”

Castiel took a steadying breath. “It was rough. Really rough. But I knew the only way I was going to make it was by making fatherhood my number one priority. I quit my job, dropped out, and became a PT.” Castiel looked a little sad at this, but there was no regret in his eyes. “Jack helped out a lot. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s going to be a great doctor.”

“You did the right thing, Cas,” Dean said quietly. “Meg would be proud.”

Castiel smiled at him. “Thank you.” He couldn’t remember talking this much to anyone since Meg died. It felt good. It felt like he’d known Dean for years. The worries and problems of that morning seemed to have vanished completely.

“What about Jack?” Dean asked, “Was he...”

“Kelly’s,” Castiel answered. “My first wife. We were high school sweethearts. Met on the debate team.”

Dean smiled fondly. “Nerds.”

Castiel chuckled. “We were. Complete nerds. Probably would have gotten along with your brother.” His smile faded slightly. “But, Jack… well, I adopted Jack. Kelly was assaulted our junior year and became pregnant.” He said softly. “The town we were raised in was... old-fashioned. Being an unwed mother was considered a disgrace, no matter how it happened. So, I married her. I adopted Jack and we made a family together. We were happy.” Castiel said sadly. “Kelly never quite recovered, though. Jack’s birth was… rough. And then, less than a year later…” he sighed.

Dean looked pained. He stroked Castiel’s hair gently.

“We never did find out who Jack’s biological dad was,” Castiel added, “but that’s probably for the best.”

“Does he know?” Dean asked quietly.

Castiel nodded. “He’s always known Kelly was his biological mom. I kept a lot of pictures and videos of her. He loved Meg, too, of course. He called her Mom. When he was older and started asking more questions, Meg and I told him everything,” he explained. “I grew up in a family full of secrets. I didn’t want to do that to my kids. But he took it well. He’s always been strong.”

“Your kids are very lucky,” Dean said at last. “My mom died when I was little, too.”

“Really?” Castiel looked at him.

He nodded grimly. “There was a house fire and she didn’t make it. She spent her last moments getting Sammy, my little brother, out of the burning room. My dad tried to save her but… well, he couldn’t. It broke him. He was never the same after that. Became a real dick. Drank a lot,” Dean said gruffly. “I just about raised Sam myself. Hell, I carried him out of the fire.”

Castiel looked awestruck, but saddened. “Where is Sam now?” 

Dean smiled. Castiel thought he saw a hint of bitterness there.

“He left for college right after high school. Ran away more like,” Dean said. “My dad was furious. Hell, I was too. After everything we… _I_ did for him?” Dean sighed heavily. The bitterness in his voice faded though, like a memory. “It took me a while to realize that Sam had it right... that he was looking out for himself and I needed to start doing the same. So one night when I couldn’t take it anymore, I got in the car and drove. I didn’t stop. I visited Sam, then I went all over the place. That’s how I ended up in Derby.”

Castiel smiled sadly. “What made you stay?”

Castiel was surprised to see Dean laugh. 

“A girl,” he admitted. There was a finality about it that clearly meant the relationship didn’t last. “She uh… dumped me.” Dean grinned.

“Hm,” Castiel considered this. “She sounds like an idiot.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Know what her name was?”

“What?”

“Cassie.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose slowly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed again.

It was infectious. Castiel smiled in amusement, idly rubbing Dean’s arm. Finally, he replied, “I’m glad you left.”

Dean leaned in, laying atop Castiel fully. “I’m glad you moved to Derby.”

“Me, too.”

Dean chuckled. He leaned in and kissed Castiel. Castiel savored the warmth of Dean’s lips and the pressure of his body beneath the covers. A happiness filled Castiel that was so powerful it almost made him sad.

A buzzing noise interrupted their kiss and they broke apart. Castiel’s phone had disappeared somewhere. Dean let him up to find it.

“Meg’s alarm,” Castiel said.

Dean took the opportunity to admire Castiel from behind as he picked up his phone. Castiel glanced back at him and Dean looked away theatrically. Castiel grinned.

“I have to go pick her up. You can use my shower if you’d like,” he said.

Dean sat up on the bed and put his arms around Castiel’s waist. “I probably should, yeah,” he flirted.

Castiel flushed a little, but he was smiling as widely as the photos on the bookshelf. 

“I won’t be gone long,” Castiel said softly.

Dean kissed him, then let him get dressed.

Fifteen minutes later, Castiel was walking Meg home from daycare, listening to her rambling and replying ‘uh-huh… oh wow’ at random. He hadn’t felt so content in years. When they got home, Dean was in the living room, showered and dressed. They all hung out for a while before Dean had to leave. Castiel was disappointed, but he understood. Dean had his own life. Less than twenty minutes later, however, he got a text from Dean asking to take him on a date. Castiel replied yes immediately.

That afternoon, Castiel and Claire finally painted her room. Charley and Gabe’s job was to keep Meg away at all costs. Surprisingly, the mission went without a hitch, and without the house or any of his children getting covered in black paint. Claire was looking bubblier than Castiel had ever seen her. He knew painting over that would be a real pain someday, but it was worth seeing Claire so happy. She even asked if her new friend Kaia could stay for dinner. Castiel said yes, and got a rare hug from his daughter. For a moment he dazedly considered buying her a pony.

They had leftovers for dinner, and Castiel was happy to finally meet Kaia. He could tell she was as strong-willed and rebellious as Claire, but she was soft-spoken and polite around Castiel, and she smiled at Meg when Claire wasn’t looking. 

Before everyone dispersed after dinner, Castiel told them that Jack was coming over the following afternoon so they’d have to help clean up the house in the morning. They all burst with excitement, although they seemed to have missed the part about cleaning up. It was hard to blame them, though. Castiel couldn’t wait to see Jack, either.

That evening, Kaia helped Claire hang her posters back up in her newly painted room. They were listening to music and talking about school. Kaia had brought some incense to help cover the lingering smell of fresh paint.

“You’re really going?” Kaia asked in surprise. She lit the last incense and pocketed her lighter. “Isn’t it like... a dance?”

“It’s a costume _ball_ ,” Claire said, taping up the corner of a poster. “Besides, Halloween is like, the only holiday worth celebrating. You get to dress up as monsters and scare people and you get free candy.”

Kaia smiled reluctantly. “What are you going as?”

“Zombie,” she answered at once. “I can do the makeup myself. And if I leave some clothes out long enough my brothers will probably shred them for me.”

Kaia laughed.

Claire grinned. “You should dress up, too.”

Kaia shrugged. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

Claire studied her for a moment, then went to her closet door. “I’ll find you something.”

Kaia watched in amusement, but her look of curiosity suddenly flew away as Claire reached out for the door handle. 

“Wait!” She shouted.

Claire looked back at her, her hand on the handle. “What?”

“Don’t open that!”

“Why?”

Kaia looked strange. Her dark eyes were intense and she looked frightened. “Something… something’s in there.”

Claire stared at her in bewilderment. “No, there’s not. What are you…”

“Don’t open it!”

Claire looked back at the door, suddenly feeling apprehensive. “How do you know?”

“I…I don’t know,” Kaia walked over to her. “I just know.”

They both stared at each other. Claire knew Kaia was strange, but she looked deadly serious. Claire’s heart was pounding. They could barely hear the music anymore. Claire thought she could feel it, too, something waiting for them in the small, dark closet. Their gaze shifted to the closet door and Claire tightened her grip. Claire’s bravery seemed to reassure Kaia, and she stood fast beside her.

“On three,” Claire said to her.

Kaia nodded.

“One… two…” Claire glared at the door. “Three!”

Claire wrenched the closet door open and Kaia gripped Claire’s arm. There was a clattering of hangers, a sudden flash of color, and high pitched laugher. Both girls flew back in fright as something lunged at them.

Claire and Kaia fell back on the bed, looks of terror on their faces, as a clown bounced back and forth, emitting a ludicrously evil laugh. The Halloween decoration had been attached to the wall in Claire’s closest and sprung out when she opened the door.

Genuine laughter sounded from Claire’s doorway and both girls looked over, furious, to see Gabe clutching the doorframe.

“The looks on your faces!” He wiped his eyes.

“Gabriel!” Claire snarled. Kaia looked mutinous. 

The girls exchanged looks, and Gabe suddenly stopped laughing. He pelted down the hall, laughing as Claire and Kaia chased him. 

“Get back here!” Claire shouted.

Castiel heard the commotion from Meg’s room, where he was reading to her in bed, and called out, “No running in the hallway!”

Gabe sought refuge in Charley’s room, where Charley was doing his homework at his desk. Gabe flung himself behind Charley, who turned just in time to see Claire and Kaia run at them. Chaos ensued.

Their shouts traveled to Meg’s room, where Castiel and Meg sighed in unison.

After everyone had settled down and returned to their own rooms, Castiel put the Halloween decoration away, then paused in Gabe’s doorway to give him a look. Gabe, like Claire, had a knack of looking perfectly angelic in moments like that. 

“What?” Gabe asked innocently.

Castiel resisted the urge to grin.

Castiel said goodnight to his kids and Kaia, then went downstairs to his office to get some work done. His mind felt like it had been in freefall ever since that afternoon. It was a wonderful feeling, but as Castiel found himself alone in the quiet house, staring at his computer screen, he felt a renewed sense of worry, like someone had pressed ‘resume’ on an old tape.

Instead of opening up his work software, he went online and typed in ‘Dean Smith Derby Kansas’. Dean Smith was an understandably common name, but there were none of them in Derby. Concern growing, he checked Wichita, then all of Kansas. It wasn’t until he backtracked and searched the Derby police records that he found something. Castiel was scrolling through the results, praying he didn’t find anything, when he saw a familiar, cocky grin. His heart sank.

The arrest report said ‘Dean Winchester’, but Castiel knew those eyes. He read the record underneath. Each line made his chest tighten—breaking and entering, unlawful modification of a firearm, and...

“Grave desecration?” Castiel whispered, squinting.

No. Surely that couldn’t be right. Dean Smith was a local handyman. People knew him. Maybe not the hardware guy, but didn’t Dr. Fitzgerald vouch for him? To Castiel’s horror, however, he discovered that Dean had an accomplice on the grave desecration arrest, and when he pulled up the photo he saw another familiar face. 

“Garth?” Castiel muttered.

Castiel closed his browser and leaned back in his chair. His thoughts were a tangled mess in the aftermath of that information, but words slowly began emerging. How could he have let this happen? He let a complete stranger into his house. He let him babysit Meg. And then he _slept_ with him. Castiel slept with a complete stranger. He’d never done anything like that in his life. He felt sick with himself.

Castiel felt his phone buzz and opened it gladly. He’d been texting Jack all evening to coordinate their weekend plans and he needed a distraction. But it wasn’t Jack texting him.

‘How about next Friday at 7?’

Castiel stared at the name above the message—Dean Smith. 

He didn’t know what to do. Should he cancel? Should he call him? It was all too much. Castiel didn’t get a chance to decide, however. In the silence of the night, he heard Claire scream upstairs.

Castiel rushed out of his office and ran up the stairs. All the lights were on in the hallway, and Claire, Kaia, and Gabe were standing facing the landing. They were bickering wildly. Claire and Kaia looked shaken and Gabe was clearly winded.

“Gabe!” Castiel said angrily.

“It wasn’t me, dad! I swear!” 

“Mr. Shurley...” Kaia said seriously, “There was a kid crouching in the corner!”

“That wasn’t me!”

“Oh, so it was the ghost?” Claire asked hotly.

“Dad, it was right there!” Gabe pointed.

“That’s enough!” Castiel raised his voice and all three stopped talking. 

Charley had come out to see what was going on. He’d barely put his glasses on. 

“Gabriel,” Castiel said firmly, “I’ve had enough of these pranks.”

“It wasn’t me!” Gabe said angrily.” I didn’t do anything!”

“You’re grounded…”

“...what!”

“...No more pranks, no more ghosts, it’s too much right now. Don’t look at me like that, I know what you’ve been doing. I know you left the flowers. I know you keep moving my tools…”

“Wha—!” Gabe spluttered.

“I want you in bed. Now!”

Gabe glared furiously at his dad. Claire and Kaia were looking at him, still startled. Charley wasn’t saying anything. Finally Gabe made an angry noise and stormed off, slamming his door behind him. They could hear him swear on the other side of the door. Claire and Kaia looked at each other.

Castiel sighed. “Go back to bed, girls,” he said. “You too, Charley.”

“I think Meg woke up,” Charley told him.

“I’ll check on her,” Castiel replied. “Get some sleep.”

Claire and Kaia went back to Claire’s room as Castiel turned the lights off in the hallway. Claire shut her door and gave Kaia a wide-eyed look.

“Your dad is scary,” Kaia whispered, although she looked a little awestruck.

“Yeah,” Claire grinned.

Kaia got into Claire’s bed and Claire laid back down on her sleeping bag on the floor. The only lights came from the moon outside and Claire’s stereo clock. 

“Was that really your brother?” Kaia leaned over to look at her.

Claire stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Neither girls were tired anymore, but neither spoke.

“You know,” Kaia said quietly, “my mom says this house is haunted. They said there are demons here.”

Claire thought about it. “Do you believe in demons?” She asked, her voice overconfident.

“Yeah,” Kaia said freely. “Do you?”

Claire didn’t answer. Finally she asked, “How’d you know something was out there?” She saw Kaia’s outline shrug.

“...you’re weird.”

Kaia laughed.

“Goodnight, weirdo.”

Kaia threw a pillow down at her. Both girls laughed quietly, then rolled over and went to sleep. 

  
  


Downstairs, Castiel made himself a cup of tea. Too overwhelmed to sleep or work, he sat at the kitchen table sipping his drink. It wasn’t until past midnight when he finally went upstairs. He showered before bed, trying not to think about the fact that Dean was the last one in there. Yet his mind kept showing him images of Dean, muscled and nude, sitting atop him, that necklace bouncing off his freckled chest. Then he saw his mugshot, those green eyes staring at the camera, looking cocky and careless. Castiel found himself staring into the corner of the shower. It was a new shower, put in by a previous resident, but the tile was already cracked. Castiel wondered just how much more he could handle.

As he dried off, he saw a missed text from Dean. He didn’t open it. He turned the lights off and went to bed. The happiness he’d felt that afternoon had sunk into a sea of doubt. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even register the sounds coming from the bathroom—The gentle dripping of water from the showerhead punctuated by a quiet but persistent scratching, like that of nails on tile.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel woke early on Saturday morning. He tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. The second his eyes opened his mind began replaying the previous day—his argument with his son, the frightened looks on his children’s faces, and Dean’s mugshot. When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he got up to use the bathroom. 

A strange smell made him pause in the doorway. It smelled like smoke. There were no candles in his bathroom, but it didn’t smell like candle smoke. It was mouldy and stale. Unable to locate the source but certain nothing was on fire, Castiel added it to his weekend to-do list and carried on with his morning.

As he descended the stairs to make coffee, he realized something seemed off. It wasn’t a smell this time, it was more like a strange feeling. It was so pronounced that Castiel turned into the living room instead of the kitchen and looked around to see if anything was out of place. He was half expecting to see a window broken and his TV missing. It was freezing, but nothing was broken or missing. It wasn’t until he turned and saw the staircase that he realized what was wrong.

The staircase was blackened, as if someone had smeared paint all over it in big smoky daubs. Castiel checked the bottoms of his feet and hands, but they were clean. The paint was dry. Castiel stood there in shock, unable to contend with what he was seeing. The railing, the side of the steps, and the wall beneath it was pitch black. He had no idea how anyone could have done it, but he knew at once who to blame.

Castiel went back upstairs at once. He went into Gabe’s room and looked around. Gabe was asleep and there were no signs of paint cans in his room. Still, Castiel woke him. 

Gabe was confused and half asleep, but he followed his dad down the stairs all the same. Castiel led him into the living room and stopped. Gabe was halfway through a yawn when his small eyes found the blackened staircase. His sleepy expression opened up slowly, and he looked panic-stricken.

Castiel sighed. “Gabriel,” he said patiently.

“Dad… I didn’t...!”

“Did you take the extra paint from the garage?”

“No!” Gabe was wide awake now.

“Gabe…” Castiel warned. “Don’t lie to me. This is completely unacceptable. Do you know how hard it is to cl…?”

“You never listen to me!” Gabe suddenly shouted at him. “You always blame me for everything!”

“That’s because…!”

“Mom would believe me! Mom wouldn’t be so stupid!”

“Gabriel!” Castiel yelled, but their argument was cut short. 

Something had caught Castiel’s eye and he did a double take. Gabe looked, too. It had happened so quickly that, despite his anger at his dad, Gabe shuffled closer to him in fright.

The staircase was white again. The wood trim gleamed chestnut brown in the early morning light, and the matching wooden railing sat clean and unblemished. There was no sign it had ever been painted over. Castiel and Gabe stared at it, dumbfounded. If it weren’t for the other having seen it, they would have questioned their sanity.

Neither spoke. Only when Gabe grabbed his dad’s shirt did Castiel regain his composure. The sight of Gabe looking helpless and scared made Castiel’s fear and anger vanish.

“Alright,” Castiel said shakily, putting a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “Alright, let’s just…”

“Dad… it’s the ghost…” Gabe whispered. “It’s real…”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He repeated. “Okay like, you believe me?”

Feeling the need to put distance between themselves and the staircase, Castiel steered Gabe into the kitchen. He sat Gabe at the table then pulled out a chair to sit in front of him. Castiel couldn’t stop thinking about the smell in his bathroom and the strange, inky figure on the porch. A pit in his stomach was opening up, born of the poison-like fear seeping through him. But he suppressed it all and put on a stoic face for his son.

“I believe you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Gabe looked relieved, but frightened. He leaned forward. “What are we gonna do? I don’t want to stay here…”

“We’re going to stay calm,” Castiel said firmly. “We won’t be able to do anything if we’re not calm. Okay? We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Gabe muttered, “okay,” but Castiel could see he was becoming teary-eyed again.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said gently, but when that seemed to have no effect on him, he asked, “Gabe? What’s wrong?”

Gabe wiped his eyes. “I miss mom.”

Castiel looked at him sadly. “Me too.”

The staircase creaked and both of them jumped. Charley was peering at them sleepily. “What’s going on?”

Castiel glanced at Gabe. 

“It was the ghost, Char,” Gabe said.

Charley’s eyes widened. He looked between his father and brother. When Castiel didn’t contradict him, Charley moved over to them at once. 

“But, Dad, you said…”

“I know,” Castiel said, “I was wrong.”

Charley looked stunned.

Castiel gave them both a reassuring look. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but we’re going to fix it, okay?”

“We can do that?” Charley asked.

“We can try,” Castiel said, “And if it doesn’t work, then we’ll figure something else out.”

The boys looked scared but reassured. Castiel hugged them both tightly until they pulled away, then he got up to start breakfast. 

The girls all woke up to the smell of pancakes and came downstairs to eat with Charley and Gabe. Kaia went home shortly afterwards. Once she was gone Castiel told Claire what happened. Claire reacted similarly to her brothers, looking startled and worried, but unlike her brothers she became excited by the prospect of taking on a ghost.

“I knew this house was haunted,” she was saying by the end of it.

“No, you didn’t!” Gabe said. “That was me!”

“Um!” Meg said loudly. “Excuse _me_!”

“How do you even fight a ghost?” Charley asked Castiel, who was trying not to smile as Gabe and Meg bickered.

“Well,” Castiel said, “I did some research. We can use salt and iron to fend it off, but we’ll have to get more. A lot more. And we might have to call in a specialist.”

“Are we going to go to Ghost-Mart?” Claire bit back a smile.

“Let’s try Wal-Mart first,” Castiel smiled at her. “We can pick up groceries for dinner with Jack while we’re there, too.”

“Yeah!” Gabe said, forgetting his argument at once.

In the chaos of the morning everyone had forgotten about Jack coming over, and there was a wave of renewed excitement. 

At the store, Castiel let the kids pick out ingredients for dinner first, then they went to get ‘ghost supplies’. Meg was chanting ‘fight the fairies’ down every aisle, and kept sneaking things into the cart. 

“Meg, I don’t think sparkly beads will scare off ghosts…” was a sentence Castiel never thought he’d need to say in his life.

Charley had gotten the idea to use holy water, so Castiel bought a cross. He hoped it was still considered holy, even if it had a ‘clearance’ sticker on it. Inspired by Charley’s revelation, Gabe picked out the biggest water gun in the store. Castiel let him put that in the cart, too. Castiel had never been very religious, but accepting that ghosts existed brought up startling new equations that Castiel didn’t have the energy to resolve yet. Claire contributed by finding an iron crowbar and an iron pipe the size of a baseball bat from the auto aisle. Resigned to getting the strangest of looks from the cashier, Castiel finally headed to the check out lane.

When they returned home they set up salt all around the house—Meg insisted putting a circle around Felix’s box, which they did—then Castiel followed more WikiHow instructions on making holy water. Despite all of this, Castiel couldn’t help but feel ill-prepared. He thought of the other protective measures he’d taken and how none of them seemed to have helped thus far. If the sage hadn’t worked, would salt and holy water really do anything?

Once they’d finished, the kids all looked round at Castiel.

“Now what?” Claire asked, seeming to share Castiel’s sense of anticlimax.

Castiel sighed in resignation. “Now we call the professionals.”

The kids exchanged curious looks as Castiel took out his phone.

Castiel knew what he had to do, even if he didn't like it. If something happened to his family and he hadn’t exhausted every possibility, no matter how ridiculous, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. That was why, a half hour later, Castiel was by the front door waiting for their new guests to arrive. Simultaneously anxious for them to arrive and dreading it, he started when he heard a car pull up. Yet, it wasn’t the car he’d been anticipating.

Castiel rushed outside to see the black Impala parked on the side of the road and Dean Smith-Winchester walking up the driveway. It was a clear, September day and Dean was wearing several layers of flannel. Castiel tried not to notice how good he looked.

“Dean, hey...” Castiel said awkwardly.

“Hey,” he replied. He looked strangely gruff and stopped a few feet away from him. 

Castiel realized with a pang of guilt that he’d been ignoring his texts since last night, which made what he had to say next even harder. “Um, we’re uh… it’s not a good time. Can you come back later?”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Cas, I’ve been calling you all morning. I thought...” but he didn’t finish.

“I know, I just… I can’t have you here right now,” he tried to explain. “We’re in the middle of something.”

Dean’s gruff expression became skeptical.

Castiel’s heart sank. There was a reason he’d been ignoring Dean’s texts, and he desperately wanted to sort it all out, but he also didn’t want Dean to see who he had invited to his home. 

“Dean…” Castiel pleaded. “Come back later. Please. I…”

Dean was looking distinctly ruffled now. He opened his mouth to speak, but a glare from a large, white van made them both stop and look around. Castiel’s heart sank. It was too late. 

A large white van with the word ‘GhostFacers’ was pulling into Castiel’s driveway. Dean stared at it in disbelief. Castiel closed his eyes in defeat.

The van parked noisily and a group of young adults got out. They had a scruffy, lives-in-their-parents’-garage look about them, and they were laden with high-tech equipment. They looked quite serious—Almost too serious.

Castiel glanced apprehensively at Dean and saw, to his confirmation, that Dean was angry. Castiel didn’t have to ask why. He was sure that Dean thought he was crazy. Officially, incontrovertibly crazy.

“Dean…” Castiel tried to explain.

“Save it,” Dean said tersely. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.” Then he turned and strode back to his car.

Castiel watched him bump hard into one of the guys getting out of the van, who turned in confusion. Castiel wanted to go after him, but in the next second the Ghostfacers were coming up to greet him. Castiel recognized the two young men in front. This time they were joined by a larger man and a petite girl, all looking painfully serious.

“Mr. Surley,” the bespectacled man greeted him. “We're glad you called.”

“You did the right thing,” said the shorter man.

They held out their hands, but Castiel slipped his hands in his pockets. 

“Hey, um...” Castiel said. “You uh...found the place alright?”

The two men folded their arms, trying to play off the denied handshake. The bigger guy was already recording him with his camera. 

“The old Elmwood place?” The cameraman gave a hollow laugh. “Course we did.” 

He zoomed in on Castiel’s face. Castiel squinted at him. He heard the Impala roar off, and Castiel’s heart seemed to fall through the earth.

“Well,” the bespectacled man cleared his throat impressively, “we’re the _Ghostfacers_.” They did a little pose. “This is Harry, I’m Ed. That’s Spruce with the camera. And back there is Maggie.”

Castiel gave them a grimace-like smile. “Well, come in then.”

Thoroughly miserable, Castiel led them inside. The Ghostfacers walked in like they were entering a museum. Harry was running his hand up and down the doorframe and Ed was murmuring reverently under his breath. Castiel gave his children a fleeting look before attempting to introduce them.

“Guys, these are my…” Castiel turned and saw Spruce, the cameraman, zooming in on Castiel’s toaster. Castiel cleared his throat and they all gave a start. “These are my kids, Charley, Gabe, Claire, and Meg. They all know what’s going on, so could you walk us through whatever it is you’re going to do?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Harry said, nudging Ed.

“Well,” Ed said suddenly, “we’re… the _Ghostfacers_.” He dropped his voice. “We’re here to rid your house… of ghosts.”

Castiel and his kids stared at them. 

“Yeah. We know,” Claire said.

“Are you going to use karate and grenade launchers?” Gabe asked excitedly.

Ed looked at Harry in alarm and whispered, “Do we… do we have grenade launchers?”

“No,” said Harry shortly. “We’re going to find the ghost haunting your house using a device of my own making.” He showed off his utility belt where an EMF meter was holstered. “An _Electromagnetic Field Reader_.”

“Very complicated,” Spruce added, “Very advanced.”

“Dean has one of those,” Meg whispered to Claire.

“We’ll go through your house,” Ed resumed, still speaking in that low, dramatic voice, “find all the ghosts, and exorcise them… back to _Hell_.”

Claire and Meg looked at each other. The Ghostfacers were doing another little pose. Charley nudged Gabe who was gaping at them. He closed his mouth quickly.

“Okay…” Castiel said slowly, “So you don’t need salt or iron or anything?”

“Salt?” Spruce said, “Are we making a sandwich?”

Ed and Harry laughed. Maggie rolled her eyes in the back.

“Dean said salt scares ghosts,” Meg said defiantly.

“Well _Dean_ sounds like an idiot,” Ed joked.

No one laughed. 

Seemingly oblivious to the awkward silence, the Ghostfacers began spreading all their stuff out on Castiel’s table and giving instructions to one another. 

“Alright, we’ll need full access to the house,” Harry said to Castiel. “You guys may want to get out of here for a while. Go see a movie or something.”

“You want me to leave you guys alone in my house?” Castiel asked.

Harry glanced around then leaned in. “Look, we’re basically experts on this house. We’ve been researching it for years,” he said in a stage whisper, “The thing that resides here, it’s uh, it’s pretty nasty.”

“Yeah,” Ed said with a smirk, “We’re gonna get all ‘Paranormal Activity’ in here.”

“Uh-huh,” Castiel said slowly.

“Oh, but,” Spruce realized, “Maybe one of the kids should stay. You know.”

Maggie gave him a disparaging look, but Ed and Harry looked impressed.

“Yeah, good idea,” Ed said, quickly counting Castiel’s kids.

The kids look alarmed. Castiel glared at Spruce.

“Get out.”

The Ghostfacers looked up at Castiel in unison. When they saw that Castiel was serious, they all began talking at once.

“Wait, what?”

“No! We have to…”

“Are you serious? Dude, is he serious?”

“Get out of my house!” Castiel repeated firmly.

“But…but but but....!”

“It’s _Elmwood_!” 

“We can’t leave now!”

Castiel grabbed Ed’s arm and manhandled him to the door. “Get your stuff and go. Now!”

The Ghostfacers looked like Christmas had been cancelled. They attempted to plead their case as they clumsily grabbed all their stuff, but Castiel herded them out the front door like an aggressive sheepdog. 

“Mr. Shirley, your kids are in danger!” Harry begged, but there was no real sympathy in his voice.

Castiel slammed the door in his face. He heard them swear outside, then begin to trudge back to their van, ranting about Castiel in clearly audible whispers.

Castiel turned to his kids who were all staring wide-eyed at the door. To Castiel’s relief, they started to grin nervously.

“What a bunch of…” Gabe said then paused and glanced at his father.

“Assbutts,” Meg finished for him.

They all broke into giggles.

“Yes. Yes they are,” Castiel agreed. “Total assbutts.”

The relief of being free of the Ghostfacers was palpable for the rest of the afternoon. They may not have gotten rid of the ghosts, but at least the Ghostfacers were gone. It wasn’t until a bit later that Castiel began to consider the implications: his plan hadn’t worked, and Castiel was left to solve the haunting of his home by himself. The reality settled on him like a weight, compounded by the image of Dean glaring at him, looking resentful and—Castiel realized for the first time—hurt. Castiel could have kicked himself. In one short afternoon, he’d ruined everything, or so it seemed.

Castiel had no time to brood on this, however. By two o’ clock, Castiel’s old sedan pulled into the driveway with Jack beaming behind the wheel.

The kids had almost forgotten that Jack was coming over in the excitement—and incredulity—of the Ghostfacers, but the sound of the car sent them into a frenzy of happiness. They all came running into the kitchen as Castiel opened the door.

Jack stood there in his beige jacket, smiling brightly at his father and siblings. The boys and Meg rushed him and Jack bent down to hug them.

“Jack!” They echoed.

“Hey guys! Have you been taking good care of Felix?”

Castiel put a hand on Jack’s shoulder in a way of greeting. Jack smiled up at him. He looked a lot like Kelly, but he had inherited Castiel’s smile.

“Yeah! Felix is huge!” Meg said.

“No he’s not,” Charley warned. “He’s the same size. But we’ve been feeding him like you said. He sleeps in my room.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Jack said to him.

Charley smiled wide.

“Hey Jack.” Claire was standing off to the side. She gave him an aloof smile. 

Jack didn’t fall for it. In a quick, playful movement, he grabbed her and hugged her tightest of all.

“No! Jack!” Claire exclaimed, laughing breathlessly. “You’re...choking me!”

“Did you guys hear something?” Jack smiled.

“Nope!” Gabe laughed with Charley.

Castiel chuckled. “Want a tour of the house?”

“Yes, please.” Jack said, still bear-hugging Claire as he attempted to follow after Castiel.

“Jack!” Claire laughed.

Chuckling, Jack finally released her. She fixed her hair quickly, but looked pleased.

Jack ended up carrying Meg through the tour, the other siblings following like talkative shadows. Castiel showed him each room of the house, including the spare room on the ground floor. Jack had helped move some of the furniture in before he left to start his new semester, but he hadn’t seen it all put together. Castiel had made Jack a room in the spare bedroom with all of his things. It looked just like his old room.

“This is really great, Dad,” Jack looked around.

Despite all of the hardships that had come with the house, Castiel couldn’t help but feel proud of his home. The only thing it had been missing was Jack. 

Jack put Meg down to chase after her siblings, who had run to get Felix so they could be reunited. Jack smiled after then, then turned to look at his dad.

“So how is everything? I’d heard it’s been kinda crazy over here.”

“You have?” Castiel asked.

“Well, you know how people talk at the hospital,” Jack said guiltily. “They all miss you, you know.”

Castiel nodded fondly. “What about you? How’s school going?”

“Great,” he said cheerily. “I’m really enjoying it this year. And I’m getting credit for all the volunteer work I’m doing at the hospital.”

“Do you spend a lot of time there?”

“Yeah. Doctor Hannah is really nice. She said once I finish school I can come work for her. Me and Sam, you remember Samandriel, we’re both going to do our residency there,” Jack said.

“That’s good,” Castiel smiled. “Just remember…”

“Watch out for Doctor Naomi,” Jack said seriously. “I know.”

They could both hear the kids running around upstairs. 

“I… I know what they say about Meg,” Jack added, seeing the pensive look on Castiel’s face.

Castiel raised his eyebrows. Jack had a knack for reading minds—at least that’s how it felt to Castiel.

“And I know it’s not true,” Jack finished firmly.

Castiel sat down on Jack’s bed, looking up at him with a slight smile. “I agree completely. Meg loved you. She loved her family.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack smiled. “You know Dr. Balthazar said she was his favorite. Do you remember that time she told Zachartiah from HR to—”

“—take his head out of his ass if he wanted to keep it,” Castiel repeated fondly. “Yes, I do.”

They both laughed.

“You know,” Jack said seriously, “if you ever need any help around here, I could always come home for a bit. There are a lot of classes I can take online, and the hospital is only…”

“Jack,” Castiel said. “I want you to stay in school. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Jack looked at his father for a moment, then smiled. “Okay.”

“Jack!” Gabe came running into the room with Felix on his arm. “Do you want to feed him?”

“Yeah!” Jack said, taking Felix carefully from Gabe.

Jack had barely settled in before the kids asked if they could take Jack to the Field Station to see the dinosaurs (“You know that’s a museum, right?” Claire told her brothers). Jack offered to take them himself to give Castiel some peace and quiet before dinner, so Castiel agreed. He gave Jack the keys to the SUV and told him to text if he needed anything.

Castiel was happy to have some alone time, but he was even happier that his kids all got along so well. His own family certainly hadn’t been that way. Feeling relieved and temporarily at peace with the world, Castiel took a moment to watch the Autumn leaves falling outside the kitchen window. It wasn’t until his eyes fell on the sink that he remembered why he’d been so miserable earlier. The Ghostfacers had been a fiasco, and Dean had stopped texting him completely. 

Castiel sighed. He should call him. Or maybe just send a text. But who was Dean Winchester? Had it all been a lie? Could he even trust him? Was he just another ‘Ghostfacers’ trying to get in to see the place where the Bishop family all died?

A sound shook Castiel from his spiralling thoughts. For a heart-stopping moment he thought the sink had turned on, but it had just been the house creaking in the wind. Castiel took a deep breath and began to make tea. He’d just filled the pot with water when he heard the sound again. It was indeed a creak, but there had been no wind that time. It sounded like it was coming from under the sink. Castiel stared at the cabinet, the same one Dean had been working in. He could see him lying there on his back with his too-small jeans and the cup of coffee on the floor beside his toolbox.

Castiel put the pot aside and got down on the floor. He took a deep breath, and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. He looked past the cleaning supplies to the silvery pipes coming out of the wall. There was a stain there. It had been there since he moved in. He strained to listen, but he didn’t hear the creak again.

Just as Castiel was about to get back up, a loud clatter made him hit his head on the cabinet. He swore, feeling water spill over his leg. The tea pot was rolling away and water was slowly seeping over the tile. Castiel stared at it in shock. The teapot hadn’t been anywhere near the edge of the counter. He looked back to close the cabinet, but the stain on the wall was no longer there. A thrill of horror paralyzed Castiel as he realized what had replaced it.

A dark hole had appeared where the stain had been—a hole in which a small, disfigured body was facing at him, cached grotesquely in the network of pipes. An eye stared blindly at him in what had once been the face of a child. Castiel fell back onto the floor, his whole body going cold with shock.

He barely had time to register what he was seeing before a shadow above him caught his eye. An inky, sooty mass was floating above him, it’s feet dangling above his head. The woman from the porch was staring at him, her face clearly visible as she looked down at him. She was screaming silently and her eyes were two, black pits.

Castiel threw his hand into the cabinet and grabbed the salt. The woman’s scream was becoming audible—A horrible, stomach-churning sound like the creaking of an old house in the wind. Gravity seemed to kick back in and the figure suddenly dropped over him. But Castiel had opened the salt. He threw the container upwards just in time.

It worked. He felt the presence above him vanish as salt rained down over his head. He slammed the cabinet closed without looking and scrambled to his feet. His legs were shaking. The suffocating fear hadn’t left him and knew Mrs. Bishop was still in the house. 

He grabbed another container of salt stashed above the stove and turned back around. His eyes just caught a small shadowy figure peering at him from the stairs before quickly walking backwards out of sight. Castiel held tight to the salt and ran towards the staircase. Fear made him want to stay still, but his anger made him reckless. 

When he reached the staircase and looked up, noone was there. His eyes happened upon the wall beside him and he saw something that made him his heart sink. There were small, sooty footprints walking up the wall. His eyes seemed to follow them of their own accord. They walked up, ignoring gravity completely, and continued on the ceiling under the second story landing. 

The small figure was crawling on the ceiling above him, its limbs sinking into it as if the plaster was quicksand. Castiel’s eyes closed of their own accord, his mind unable to take in the grotesque sight. It’s face had been disfigured like the child in the kitchen, like someone had attacked it with a hammer. He threw more salt upwards and felt rather than heard the figure dissipate. 

Remembering the iron poker beside the fireplace, Castiel rushed across the living room, holding the salt like a talisman. He was halfway across the room when a loud bang echoed through the house and Castiel was sprayed with bits of wood. He ducked, shouting in confusion, and looked back to see one of the balusters on the staircase smashed to pieces. It jutted outward like a broken bone. His back to the fireplace, Castiel was blind to the shadowy figure emerging from the corner, reaching out a long, spindley arm. 

Something in Castiel finally broke, and he shouted in rage, “Get out of my house! Leave my family alone!” He threw salt all around him in a circle, and the figure behind him vanished like a firework. He grabbed the poker and held it like a sword, panting. He was surrounded by salt and pieces of wood. 

As if emerging from a pool, the house felt suddenly warm and empty. It was as if Jack and the kids had just left. Castiel had no idea how long he stood there, his heart pounding against his ribs. Somewhere in the distance he heard a truck pass by. The sound was so mundane that it pulled Castiel back to reality. He lowered the poker and looked around, his expression wrought with exhaustion. He saw the clock on the wall above the TV and realized the kids _had_ just left. Only a few minutes had passed, even though Castiel was sure he’d spent at least ten just standing there trying to breathe. Castiel’s mind became overburdened at last, and he went numb.

Slowly, Castiel put the poker down and began to clean up. He mopped the salty water off the kitchen floor, put the teapot away, picked up all the wood in the living room, then vacuumed the rest. The sound of the vacuum seemed distant, like Castiel’s ears were plugged with water. He seemed to have entered a state of muscle memory. He barely knew what he was doing. He cleaned the sooty footprints off the wall and ceiling then, with nothing left to clean, he went out to the garage to get his tools to fix the railing.

Jack and the kids came home two hours later to find Castiel chopping vegetables for dinner. The kids were all talking excitedly about the dinosaurs, and Charley was telling Jack facts about snapdragons. Castiel was immediately rushed and shown little dinosaur figurines Jack had bought them. Castiel smiled and listened, then told them all to get washed up for dinner. Jack gave him a questioning look, as if he could feel that something had happened while they were out, but Castiel gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Hey, did you know your engine shakes when you start the van?” Jack said, helping himself to a glass of water while the kids washed up. “I felt it when we left.”

“Oh, right. I need to get that checked out,” Castiel said. “I keep forgetting.”

Jack sipped his water and Castiel caught him making a funny face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just… I didn’t realize you had well water.”

Castiel paused, looking at the glass. “We don’t. Does it taste funny?”

“A bit, yeah. It’s alright.”

Slightly concerned, Castiel got him a jug of filtered water from the fridge. “Here. And I’ll make some lemonade, too.”

Jack smiled at him.

Jack and Charley helped cook dinner while Gabe and Claire played dinosaurs with Meg. Castiel still felt numb and distant as they all sat down to eat, but the warm, cheesy soup and friendly conversation finally seemed to bring him back to earth. Soon he was laughing and talking with the rest of his family. He knew he’d have to talk to Jack about what was really happening in the house, especially if Jack was going to stay the night, but surely it could wait a bit longer.

Everyone went to bed late that night. Castiel and Jack had made a fire in the yard to burn up some of the fallen branches and yard clutter, and the kids got to stay up late making s’mores and telling stories. It was almost eleven before the fire had burned to embers and Castiel insisted they go to bed. 

Castiel had some time alone with Jack afterwards, but still he didn’t bring up the ghosts. When Jack finally bid him good-night and went to his room, Castiel got up to turn off all the lights and go upstairs. He double-checked his stashes of salt and holy water, made sure there was iron in each room, then salted the doors and windows. He just hoped Jack didn’t get up in the middle of the night. 

Castiel had just finished and was about to go upstairs when he saw movement on the front porch. Without thinking, he moved to the fireplace and grabbed the iron poker. Little sparks of dread coursed through him as he stared at the door, waiting to see the movement agan. But he didn’t. Instead, he heard a scuffling sound. Seeing flashes of distorted faces and inky black figures, he slowly approached the door. But just as he neared the peephole, an unexpected noise made him jump.

Someone was knocking.

Castiel stared at the door, confused by what he was hearing. It took a moment for his brain to remind him that knocking was possibly the most normal sound to have ever come from that door and he should probably put the poker down and answer it.

When Castiel opened the front door he was relieved to see a very real person standing there. Granted, if Castiel hadn’t seen his neighbor from across the street a few times already, he might have indeed thought it was a ghost rather than a person. His neighbor was tall and thin with a pale, gaunt face and dark yet alert eyes. His black hair was swept back, giving him a hawk-like appearance. Castiel thought he looked like an undertaker. 

“So sorry to bother you this late,” the man said. His voice was slow and smooth, and he was smiling politely at Castiel. “I just got off work and I couldn’t help but notice your lights were still on. I thought it was about time we met.”

“Of course,” Castiel said. “Please, come in.”

The man stepped inside graciously. He was wearing a long, black coat and shiny black shoes. As he stepped inside Castiel noticed he was carrying a wicker basket. 

“Homemade treats,” he said, noticing where Castiel was looking and extending him the basket. “Pickle chips, cheese straws, and my family’s famous potato casserole.” 

Castiel took the basket, trying to look thankful rather than bemused by the food choice. “That’s... very kind of you.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “Oh, and there’s a small bottle of añejo tequila. I thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

Castiel stared at him, then smiled in a guilty sort of way. “How’d you know?”

“Call it intuition.” The man chuckled wryly. Then he gestured to the basket and asked, “May I join you?”

Castiel was planning on going to bed, but if the previous few nights had been any indicator, he would probably just lay awake and restless for hours anyway. Jack was asleep, the kids were all in bed, so Castiel grabbed a few small glasses from the very back of the cabinets and opened the tequila for them to share. 

“Very generous of you,” the man said, holding up his glass to toast. “To the health and happiness of you and your family.”

Castiel had never been much of a drinker—he didn’t care for the effects—but there had been occasions on which it had helped ease his troubled mind, and this was one of them. The tequila was cool, but it warmed his entire body instantly. It felt like steam had risen in his mouth and he coughed.

“Sorry,” he said, hoping he hadn’t insulted his guest.

“Not at all,” the man took another slow sip. “It means it’s working.”

Castiel felt his cheeks flush. He chuckled. Then, a thought occurred to him. “I never got your name…”

“Ah, of course.” The man set his glass aside. “I’m Mortimer Tod. And you are Castiel Shurley, I presume.”

“Yes,” Castiel paused, recalling something as if from another life. “Tod? As in…”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re a doctor, aren’t you?” Mortimer realized. “Yes, Tod Funeral Home is a family business.”

Castiel could have laughed. He really was an undertaker. “Well, I’m a physical therapist now,” he clarified, “but yes, I saw that name quite a bit when I worked at the hospital.”

“I appreciate the business,” he smiled lightly.

“It wasn’t intentional,” he chuckled.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel at ease with this man. He could see how Mortimer’s profession and his striking physical appearance would inspire feelings of unease in others, but for whatever reason Castiel felt quite the opposite. He felt safe.

“Can I ask you about this neighborhood?” Castiel asked.

Mortimer nodded, looking at him expectantly.

“Everyone here… they all know about this house, right?”

“Indeed,” he said simply. “More than most I’m afraid.”

Castiel looked at him curiously.

“Many of us were privy to the more… nuanced goings-on of the Bishop family during that time,” he said. “Many of us, myself included, were there when it all happened. Many moved. I stayed, naturally. It was my mortuary to which the family, or rather what was found of them, was taken.”

Castiel stared at him in realization. “Oh…” was all he could say.

Mortimer nodded gravely. “Sad days. Terribly sad days,” he said. “Nowadays neighbors would rather be rude to newcomers than relive that nightmare, I’m afraid,” he said, a note of apology in his voice.

“I noticed,” Castiel smiled weakly. “But, I understand. A lot of people move in and out of this house. I’m sure it’s hard to keep track.” He found himself repeating Dean’s words and took another sip of tequila.

Mortimer looked at him curiously. “Oh I suspect it has much more to do with the ghosts.”

Castiel coughed again. He looked up at Mortimer in surprise.

Mortimer’s eyebrows rose impassively.

There was no use denying it. Here was a man who dealt with death more frequently than even Castiel. Perhaps more than any of the doctors at St. Francis hospital. Castiel sighed heavily.

Mortimer’s expression softened sympathetically.

“It’s been hard,” Castiel finally said, and he felt his eyes stinging. A well of emotion began to stir unexpectedly in him, and he took another sip of tequila. The burning warmth was comforting.

“I quite understand.”

“Do you…” he began. “Have you seen them? The uh… the...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I have,” Mortimer nodded. “I’ve seen others as well. Many, in fact. But the ones here are particularly troubled.”

Castiel nodded numbly.

“I can tell you about them, if you’d like,” he offered.

Castiel considered this deeply. He looked at Mortimer, taking in his sympathetic yet incredibly astute gaze, and made up his mind. “Alright.”

Mortimer smiled lightly. He topped off their glasses, then offered the basket to Castiel. “Try a pickle chip, they’re quite good. Secret family recipe.”

Castiel took the sealed bag and opened it. The smell was a welcome distraction.

“Now then,” he began, “You know about the family I assume? Four children went missing, their mother committed suicide in the attic, etcetera?”

Castiel nodded.

“And you know that, years later, two of the children were found here. In the walls?”

Castiel nodded again, resisting the urge to glance at the kitchen sink.

“Very good. But that’s only half of the story, I’m afraid,” he said. “You see, when the children first went missing the mother was considered a suspect. It’s natural to suspect those closest to the victims. But she was released and returned home.”

“Mr. Bishop was away, right? A business trip?”

“Oh, no, he was home,” Mortimer corrected him. “Some facts have gotten in the speculative rumors, but I saw him myself. He was there the night Mrs. Bishop returned home from the police station. That was the first night we, that is to say the neighbors and I, noticed odd things happening.”

Castiel absentmindedly bit into a pickle chip. The salt tasted good against the tequila. 

“The attic light flickered constantly. We’d never seen the attic used before, you see. Then we heard noises. Strange, terrible noises. And then, a few days later, we were all awoken by sirens. Many of us came outside to see the Bishop house in flames. Firefighters arrived and put it out. They saved most of the house, but then we saw paramedics remove Mrs. Bishop. She was badly burned.”

Castiel’s brows came together. He was never told about a fire. 

“I admit that I don’t often see death from the living perspective,” Mortimer went on. “I mean to say, the moments before death are not often revealed to me. I found Mrs. Bishop’s expression particularly disturbing. I expected her to die. I expected to see her in a similar state at my office the following day. But of course, as you know, she did not die. Not then.” He took a sip of tequila and helped himself to a chip. “Mr. Bishop left town the following day. I saw him watching his wife being loaded into the ambulance. He looked particularly troubled. But he was the subject of much sympathy. To lose his children, wife, and house in one short week...”

“I thought Mrs. Bishop survived the fire,” Castiel said.

“She did. But she wasn’t the same afterwards. I think he suspected her,” he said sadly. “The fire investigation team never did determine the cause of the fire, only that it started in the attic. Popular rumor suggests Mr. Bishop discovered his wife’s crimes that night and attempted to burn their house down in an attempt to kill her. When it didn’t work, he fled. Started over. Despite all the publicity over the missing children, there was barely anything in the papers about the fire, and even less about Mr. Bishop leaving town.”

Castiel couldn’t imagine it. He realized he’d been imaging his wife Meg as Mrs. Bishop, insane with grief over her missing children. He wouldn’t have believed it. It couldn’t have been possible. A mother killing her own children?

“Mrs. Bishop returned home once her and the house were both repaired, and she lived there for years in total isolation. She’d stand on the front porch every night, some say to wait for her husband and children to come home. Disturbed by this behavior, no one stayed out long after dark. I saw her many times while watering my moon lilies,” he said.

“And then one night, the neighbors and I heard the very same, strange noises coming from the house as we’d heard before. The following day, Mrs. Bishop was nowhere to be seen. That was the last anyone saw her alive. Weeks later her body was found in the attic. She’d committed suicide. She was brought to my mortuary at last.”

Castiel watched as Mortimer took a long sip of tequila. He looked sober. Castiel felt an urge to ask how she’d done it, but he felt that might be inconsiderate.

“The house was eventually cleaned up and put on the market,” Mortimer went on. “We were all relieved to put the past behind us. But it wasn’t over. The newest family, the Marshals I believe, talked about strange smells, problems with the pipes, the water tasting funny, etcetera. I overheard their children talking about something whispering to them from the attic. The family finally became so fed up with the house’s problems that they decided to remodel the kitchen.”

Castiel closed his eyes. Horror was rising in him like black water. His hand shook slightly around his glass. “And they, um, they found one of the children, right?” He prompted at last.

Mortimer nodded gravely.

Castiel pictured Mr. Mashal taking a sledgehammer to the wall behind the sink, perhaps even a sledgehammer he’d found in the basement, and then he saw that eye again, staring blindly at him from the darkness. “Do you, um,” Castiel tried to collect himself. “Do you know where the other one was found?”

“I do,” Mortimer said. “Just up the stairs. In the wall of the landing.” He gestured vaguely upwards.

Castiel nodded, suppressing the urge to be sick.

Mortimer gave him a moment. 

Castiel pressed on however, “And the other two… they were never found?”

“Correct,” he said. “The house was searched. I believe they did a sonar sweep.”

“What happened after that?”

Mortimer took a breath. “Well, the Marshals moved out. The town’s suspicions had been proven at last. It seemed Mrs. Bishop had murdered her children. Many more families moved in and out of the house after the Marshals. We fully expected them to find more of the children, but no family lasted very long, you see. Some only a few weeks. A legend began to grow about Mrs. Bishop haunting the house, carrying a sledgehammer that was thought to be the murder weapon.”

“So, people think the other two bodies are still here?”

“They do.”

“Do you?” Castiel asked.

He thought about it. “I’m not sure. The legends have gotten a bit out of hand. It’s hard to know what the truth is anymore. Some suggest Mrs. Bishop was actually a demon. All I know is that I handled her and her two children after they were found, and no legend could ever be as horrible as the real thing.”

Castiel privately agreed. Nothing he had seen in that house made him feel as sick as the idea of a mother killing her children. He took another sip of tequila. The warmth flooded his brain, forcing out his fear and sorrow, causing him to remember something. “You said she, um, she would stand on the porch? Before she died?”

“Before, and after, I believe.”

Castiel felt numb again.

“The last few families,” Mortimer said carefully, “and the other neighbors and I, we’ve all seen a woman standing on the porch almost every night. I assume you’ve seen it, too?”

Castiel nodded weakly. He was overcome with an urge to text Dean, but he was certain that Dean hated him now. Regret coursed through him faster than the tequila. He wished he’d never moved to Derby.

They sat in silence, sipping their glasses for a while. Mortimer prompted Castiel to try a cheese stick, which looked a bit like a churro. Eventually the conversation shifted. Castiel told Mortimer about his kids, and in turn Mortimer told him about his own extensive family, and his sister who ran the Tod Funeral Home in Wichita. It wasn’t until one in the morning when Mortimir finally left to tend to his lilies. 

“Tell Charley he’s welcome to see my garden anytime,” Mortimer smiled amicably.

“He’d love that,” Castiel smiled back, then watched Mortimer turn and walk to his house across the street.

Castiel’s smile faded in the moonlight. It was chilly and windy outside. Autumn had arrived at last. Leaves swept down the street, dancing in the lamplight. A few houses had begun to put up Halloween decorations. Castiel’s eyes dropped to his own porch, lingering on the subtle dip in the wood right in front of the door. He stared at it for a long time then, at last, shut the door and went to bed.

Mortimer Tod entered his gated yard and checked briefly on his lilies. Over the top of their moonlit petals, his dark eyes caught sight of an old car parked down the street. He stared at it appraisingly for a moment before finally stepping inside.

The empty car was tucked away between two trees, gleaming silently in the moonlight. Except, it wasn’t empty. Two silhouettes inside shifted subtly.

“Damn, did he see us?”

“I don’t think so.”

Dean and Garth exhaled in relief.

“That guy gives me the creeps,” Garth said.

Dean didn’t respond. He’d taken out his phone and checked it halfheartedly.

Garth eyed him. “Still no luck with Cas, huh?” 

Dean gave him a distant look, then sipped his flask in the passenger’s seat.

Garth sighed. He couldn’t remember the last time Dean had been in his car and not scoffed at the ill-fitted cd player, messy floor, and leis (or flowery hippie shit, as Dean called it) hanging from the mirror, but tonight Dean barely noticed. 

“He really called the Ghostfacers, huh?” Garth asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Dean glowered at his flask. “Buncha idiots. I can’t believe they haven’t gotten themselves killed.”

Garth chuckled softly. But Dean’s impassioned dislike of the Ghostfacers faded quickly, and he was back to staring moodily out the window.

Garth sighed. “Maybe it’s for the best, you know? Like you said, Cas and his family can live a nice, normal life after all this is over.” But not even Garth could inject his voice with confidence. In truth, he’d wanted Dean and Cas to work out as much as Dean did.

When Dean continued to evade his gaze, Garth took another brave stab at cheering him up. 

“Well,” he smiled, “at least you didn’t sleep with him.”

Dean lowered his flask slowly. 

Garth’s smile faltered. “You… you didn’t…”

Dean glared at him.

“Oh, Dean…”

Garth’s sympathetic grimace made Dean feel a hundred times worse. He looked away, unable to bear it. Garth decided to stop talking. 

They sat in the car in silence, watching number 252 Elmwood. They didn’t leave until the black sky lightened to a deep, early morning blue, and even Mortimer Tod’s house went dark and silent.


	8. Chapter 8

The Shurleys awoke late on Sunday morning. Jack had already made coffee when Castiel got up. They were similarly tousle-haired and bleary-eyed. They talked at the table for a while, but Castiel still couldn’t bring himself to tell Jack about the house. He felt ashamed of himself. He wanted to talk to him about Dean Winchester, too, but the thought of that made him feel even worse. He knew Jack could tell something was on his mind, though.

As the kids came downstairs, Castiel began to make breakfast. He felt better when he was busy. Claire woke up last and asked if Kaia could come over first thing.

“No, Claire. Not today,” Castiel said.

Claire kept asking why, until Castiel finally told her in private that it isn’t safe and, in fact, Kaia shouldn’t come over at all anymore. Claire glared at him and stalked away, her breakfast half-eaten. 

Jack didn’t ask what had happened, but he did offer to take care of Meg when the boys went out for a bike ride. Castiel accepted, eager to get more work done in his office.

Castiel took the bag of pickle chips into his office and, less than an hour later, had caught up on his week’s work. It would have felt great, if it didn’t feel like he was trying to outrun something monstrous. He noticed on his online calendar that Garth Fitzgerald IV had scheduled another appointment for the following week. Castiel considered referring him to another therapist. Dr. Uriel always got good results, even if he was a bit of a sadist. Maybe it would turn Garth away from his office entirely. It was probably for the best.

Castiel leaned back in his office chair and looked out the window when he noticed something black and shiny. It took him a moment to realize what it was. The Impala was parked in front of his house, gleaming in the bright Fall sunlight. Castiel got up quickly.

He hurried outside to see his SUV parked halfway down the driveway and Dean Winchester bent under the hood. Jack was standing beside him, talking cheerfully. Jack heard the screen door close and turned to wave at Castiel. Dumbfounded, Castiel came down the porch steps.

“I just put Meg down for a nap in her room,” Jack told him pleasantly.

Dean stood up and turned, looking sweaty and greasy in the bright sunlight. 

“What’s going on out here?” Castiel asked, stopping just short of the driveway.

“I’m learning about cars!” Jack said. “I didn’t know your mechanic was coming by today.”

Castiel stared at them. He had completely forgotten about agreeing to have Dean come by on Sunday. He thought for sure Dean wouldn’t come again after the Ghostfacers incident. 

“Oh, right…”

Dean didn’t look nearly as angry anymore, but he didn’t say anything. His expression was inscrutable. When he finally spoke he didn’t look Castiel directly in the eye. 

“It looks like your spark plugs just needed to be cleaned,” he said gruffly.

“Spark plugs ignite the air-fuel mixture and powers the engine...” Jack added.

“I managed to get to them alright. It isn’t shaking when it starts anymore...”

“...the engine shakes when the spark plugs get worn out or too dirty…”

Dean shot a smile at Jack. “...so you should be good, but if you feel it shake again then you’ll need new plugs. I know a guy who can get ‘em for you for cheap. Otherwise, I changed the oil and the wipers. Both were looking worn.”

Jack beamed at Dean.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’s a good assistant.”

Castiel was looking between them, his expression softened. “He is,” he agreed.

Jack beamed at him, too.

Dean seemed to realize he didn’t have a reprimand coming, and he licked his lips tentatively. 

Castiel felt a fresh wave of guilt. “Well, thank you, Dean.”

Dean glanced at him, wiping his greasy hands on a towel.

“When you’re finished, why don’t you come inside?” Castiel said. “I made lemonade.”

Dean’s eyes looked greener than ever in the sunlight. He gave Castiel a small smile. “That sounds great.”

Something shifted in Castiel. He felt light. He patted Jack on the shoulder before walking back inside.

In the smallest bedroom upstairs, Meg was fast asleep on her bed. Her room was small and bright, with bumblebees printed on the curtains. The bees fluttered in the breeze as she slept, unaware of her dad working in his office or her eldest brother coming inside for a drink of water, or of the strange movement in the hallway just outside her room. 

The sound of muffled, running footsteps perforated her dreams, followed by the sound of a thin board being dragged across the ceiling. Still, she slept on. Even as the smell of sulfur began to fill the air, she didn’t wake. Her nose wrinkled and she fidgeted in her sleep, but she didn’t see the wall beside her turning black. She didn’t see the hands, children's hands, growing out of the darkness and stretching blindly towards her. Slowly, they began dragging her towards the wall. Her dark eyebrows contracted as if she was having a bad dream. She didn’t see the tall figure in the doorway, broad and pitch black, wielding a blackened sledgehammer and emitting raw heat.

Dean wiped sweat off his brow as he threw his tools into his trunk. He’d just finished up on Castiel’s van and he was extremely thirsty. He wished he’d brought a change of clothes, or at least a new shirt. His back was sweaty and he smelled like oil. He sneaked a swig of his flask and, by chance, glanced up at the second story of Castiel’s house. He froze, his expression opening in fear as he saw Meg’s room. It was flickering, as if a fire had started.

Dean dropped the flask and dove into his trunk. There was a hidden, second layer beneath all of his tools from which he pulled out a shotgun. Then he slammed the hood, and raced up the driveway.

Castiel had just gotten out of his office chair. He thought he heard Dean come inside so he walked out into the hallway. He spotted Jack coming out of his room, too.

“Is Dean finished?” Castiel asked him.

“I think so,” Jack said. “He was almost done when I came in.”

Something felt wrong. Both of them looked at each other as they heard heavy footsteps race up the stairs.

Dean skidded down the upstairs hallway and saw the attic door hanging open. The smell hit him like a physical force. Meg’s room was at the end of the hallway and the door was shut. Dean grabbed the handle, but it was locked. Taking a shallow breath, he backed up and kicked it. The door flew inwards with a bang, and the smell of sulfur overpowered him. For a moment he thought he saw black fire in the middle of Meg’s room, but then it moved. It rose up into a tall, broad shadow figure hovering over Meg’s bed. Dean didn’t think. He raised the shotgun and fired.

The sound of the shot exploded through the house. Meg screamed. Rock salt pierced the figure and it’s mouth flew open, vanishing like ink in water. Dean crossed the room and Meg leaped off her bed towards him. The flames vanished as if they’d been an illusion, but the curtains were singed and smoking.

“Dean!” Castiel came pelting into the room, followed closely by Jack.

“Daddy!” Meg cried.

Castiel’s expression went from confused to livid in an instant, and Dean realized all too late that he was still holding the rifle and the shadow figure was gone.

“Get away from my daughter!” Castiel overtook Dean and scooped up Meg.

Dean set the rifle down slowly. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I was just…”

But Castiel was beside himself. “Get out of my house!”

Dean stared at them. Castiel looked downright dangerous, and Jack was staring at him in angry shock. 

“Let me explain…” Dean tried again.

Dean knew at once it was no use. Castiel put Meg in Jack’s arms and seized Dean before he could finish his sentence. Dean felt himself lifted to his feet with surprising strength. He only just managed to grab his rifle as Castiel hauled him bodily from the room.

“Wait, Cas!” Dean’s fight instincts had kicked in, although he let Castiel manhandle him down the hall. “You need to listen to me!”

“No, _you_ listen...!”

In the chaos, Dean caught a few words of what Meg was saying to Jack, and Dean suddenly stopped in the middle of the staircase.

“...he had a hammer. He attacked me…”

“Wait, what did you say?” Dean looked back at Meg and Jack, even as Castiel pushed him forwards. “ _He_? Meg, was that a man?”

Meg nodded tearfully, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Dean demanded.

“Out!” Castiel pushed Dean and his rifle through the kitchen and out the front door at last.

“Cas, wait! You’re in danger. Meg is in danger! It wasn’t the mo…” but he was cut off by the door slamming in his face.

Dean stared blindly for a moment. He ran his fingers through his hair. He had half a mind to barge back in, but he knew they were probably calling the cops and Dean was wielding a shotgun in broad daylight. He swore and ran back to his car.

“Dad, we need to call the cops,” Jack insisted.

Inside the house, Castiel and Jack were sitting in the living room with Meg. They had managed to calm her down and she was sitting on Jack’s lap, her fist clenched around the sleeve of Castiel’s shirt. Castiel was still shaking.

“No,” Castiel said quietly.

“Why not?”

Castiel wiped his face with his hand. 

Jack squinted at him. “Dad, what is happening?”

Castiel sighed and looked at him. He could no longer hide how tired he felt. The shame in him swelled as he saw the look of confusion on his eldest’s face. Castiel took a deep breath and began to tell Jack everything. He told him about the first day they moved in and the crack in the wall, he told him about the dark figure on the porch, the problems with the lights, the kitchen sink, and the staircase. Then he told him the story of the house. Castiel watched sadly as Jack’s confusion was replaced by alarm.

“And you think Dean is a part of this?” Jack asked.

Castiel looked wearily at him. “I… I don’t know. Dean’s been coming by all week to help with the house. I thought… I thought I could trust him. But...”

“Dean saved me,” Meg spoke up at last. She had let go of Castiel’s sleeve and was watching him. Her eyes were red but she wasn’t crying any more. “He shot the ghost.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say to her. Jack was watching her now, too. 

“Dean isn’t who he said he was,” Castiel explained gently. “He lied to us. I think he’s… remember the Ghostfacers? I think he’s one of them. I don’t want him in the house anymore. Not until we fix this.”

Meg seemed to take that as an answer, although Jack was looking at Castiel curiously. “How do we fix this?” He asked.

Castiel didn’t answer. The truth was, he didn’t know. But Jack seemed to understand. 

“I’ll call my friend at school,” he said, “maybe she’ll know something.”

“Sure, Jack,” Castiel smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

Jack let Meg up so he could contact his friend in his room. Castiel had never felt so low. He wished he’d never bought the house. He felt like a fool.

“Daddy?” Meg asked, climbing back on the couch with her dinosaur toy and sitting against him. “Did you like Dean?”

Castiel put his arm around her. “Yes, I did,” he told her quietly. He felt his eyes sting and he bit his cheek.

“You like other daddies? You’re silly," she giggled.

Castiel raised his brows. He smiled at her. “Well _you_ like to put playdough up your nose.”

She giggled even more, and Castiel chuckled. She handed him her dinosaur like a consolation prize and Castiel took it.

“We should get a dinosaur. A real one,” she said.

Castiel looked at her fondly. “Anything you want,” he smiled, and kissed her on the head.

  


When the boys came back from their bike ride, Castiel texted Claire to come home, too. Castiel and Jack had decided not to tell anyone what happened yet. When Claire finally showed up still looking irritated, Castiel told her that she could go to Kaia’s house whenever she wanted. That seemed to improve her mood, and they spent the rest of the day in relative peace. They even went to the Harvest Festival downtown, and Castiel bought Meg all the pie she wanted. 

They had leftovers for dinner and Castiel heated up Mortimer’s casserole and had some of the snacks he’d brought for an appetizer. The kids loved them.

After dinner they relocated to the living room, and Claire asked to go to Kaia’s. For a moment Castiel hesitated. He wanted to keep everyone together. The feeling of foreboding that had settled inside of him ever since his conversation with Mortimer was growing, and Castiel was afraid to lose sight of any of his kids for too long. But then Claire gave him a look, and Castiel knew he had already told her she could go.

“Yes…”

“Okay thanks!” She sprinted off.

“Come back tonight though!” Castiel called after her. “And text me! Often!”

The front door slammed and Castiel sighed. Jack was grinning. 

“She’s just like Mom,” Jack smiled.

Castiel knew he meant Meg, and he couldn’t help but grin too. 

“Hey!” Gabe suddenly looked around in glee. “Boys night!”

“What about Meg?” Charley asked.

Meg looked up from her coloring and frowned. “I’m not a boy!”

“You can be. Here, I’ll give you a beard.” He took one of her crayons. They play-fought on the floor while Gabe tried to draw on her and Charley laughed.

Jack’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Oh! It’s Charlie.”

Charley looked up.

“Other Charlie. From school,” he clarified, then gave his dad a meaningful look.

Castiel got the hint. “Charley, can you watch your siblings for a second?”

Charley nodded, and Castiel and Jack went into Castiel’s office and shut the door.

Jack propped his phone up on the desk and answered.

“Hey Charlie,” he waved at her.

A petite girl with bright red hair appeared on his screen. She was around Jack’s age and had an avid look of interest on her face. “Hey Jack. Oh, is that your dad? Hi, Mr. Shurley.”

Castiel smiled at her. “Nice to meet you, Charlie.”

“So what’d you find?” Jack asked eagerly.

“Well,” she said, giving them a dramatic look, “you weren’t kidding about 525 Elmwood having a weird past. I had to hack into the police database to get all the deets.”

“You hacked…” Castiel repeated, looking at Jack questioningly. 

Jack gave him a sheepish look as Charlie continued.

“It turns out the stuff they put in the papers was only a fraction of the story. The _full_ story was…” she grimaced, “gross.”

“We know,” Jack frowned.

“Do you… do guys really live there?”

Castiel frowned, too. “Yeah.”

Charlie looked bewildered. “Yikes. Okay, well… I found some stuff that might help, but they all involve, uh… exorcisms.” She glanced nervously at Castiel. “I don’t know how much you buy into that stuff, but it’s supposed to work. As long as you don’t mind feeling like you’re in a cult. Don’t worry though! You don’t need to bite the heads off any chickens. You can get everything you need from the store. I’m sending you the links now.”

“Great,” Jack beamed, “Thanks, Charlie.”

She beamed back at him. “You’re welcome.”

“Hey, Charlie,” Castiel asked. “When you uh… hacked the police database…”

Charlie listened, looking pleased with herself.

“Did you come across anything about the night Mrs. Bishop died? Specifically, how it happened?” Castiel asked. Jack looked at him. Castiel was still thinking about Mortimer’s story and wishing he’d asked how Mrs. Bishop had committed suicide. It wasn’t sure why, but he felt like it was important.

Charlie's smile dropped and she looked at her computer. “Uh, yeah, I think so. I had to do some digging to find it. The autopsy just said ‘fire’, which I thought was weird… everything was so specific up until that point... Oh, here we go. So, one of the paramedics who attended the scene retired right after Mary Bishop’s death. And in his confidential retirement report _he_ wrote...”

“Confidential?” Castiel smiled.

Charlie gave him a furtive smile. “...Mary Bishop had been a victim of ‘spontaneous human combustion’. He said there was no other explanation. The fire that killed her burned only her body. Nothing else in the attic was affected. In fact, one of her hands was completely intact, and the fire had gone out on its own long before they arrived.”

“Wait, so it wasn’t suicide?” Jack asked.

“If it was spontaneous human combustion then no, it wouldn’t be. But there’s only like, a few cases of that worldwide and most people don’t even think it’s a real thing.”

“Was there anything about a sledgehammer?” Castiel asked.

“No, nothing like that,” she said. “But the report does say that Mary’s hand was outstretched as if she was reaching towards something. I suppose that would be one of her children she hid in the walls. Ugh.”

“Alright. Thank you, Charlie,” Castiel said.

“Any time,” she said. “Just… give me some time before the next one so I can rinse my eyes out with bleach.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Jack chuckled.

Jack ended the call and looked at Castiel. They both looked deep in thought.

“What do you think?” Jack asked.

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He thought understanding what happened would help, but he was even more confused than before. Finally he sighed and said, “Let’s see those exorcisms.”

Jack pulled them up on his phone. “They look easy enough. You just draw this on the floor, say some stuff, and it makes the demons leave. Should we do it tonight?”

Castiel considered this. “No. It’s late. And I don’t want the kids here while I do it.”

“Okay, but…” Jack eyed him. “ _I’m_ going to be here with you.”

“Jack…”

“I’m not letting you do this alone!”

Jack said it with such conviction that Castiel stopped talking at once. Jack looked so much like Kelly in that moment—fearless and overcome with purpose.

Castiel smiled softly. “Alright. Maybe… maybe I can call Gabriel to watch the kids. I know they’d love to see him.”

Jack smiled approvingly. 

As Castiel inspected the exorcism ritual on Jack’s phone his only solace was the fact that, at the very least, it couldn’t get any worse.

  


Claire and Kaia were hanging out in a dimly lit room, watching funny videos on Kaia’s phone. They weren’t at Kaia’s house, however. The moment Claire left she’d doubled back and sneaked down the walking path behind Elmwood Avenue. Kaia had been waiting for her in the old fort. They were eating junk food and talking while the trees swayed and creaked around them.

“So your dad doesn’t want me around anymore, huh?” Kaia asked, looking half grim, half guilty.

“It’s not that,” Claire said at once, “It’s the house. He thinks you’d be in _danger_.”

“So… _you’re_ not in danger?”

“I know, right?” Claire grinned at her. “It’s so stupid.”

Kaia looked vaguely troubled, even as she ate a gummy worm. “My parents don’t want me going over there anyway.”

“But you already did.”

“They don’t know that…” Kaia smiled slyly.

Claire grinned.

“You know, my step-mom,” Kaia said, “she thinks the ghost in your house is good.”

“What?” Claire asked incredulously.

“She thinks it’s a good spirit that’s protecting the house from… from whatever killed her kids.”

“I thought the mom killed her kids.”

Kaia shrugged, searching for another video to watch.

Claire sat up straight. She could tell Kaia was holding something back. “Tell me,” she glared at her.

Kaia glanced away, feigning deafness.

“Kaia.”

Kaia looked at her guiltily. “She thinks it’s a demon.”

“A demon.” Claire repeated.

“Yup. A demon.”

“Those exist?” Claire asked, a flicker of uncertainty betraying her skeptical expression.

“Yeah.”

Kaia had said it so plainly and with such certainty that Claire couldn’t think of a comeback. Instead she asked, “Well, what’s the difference between a demon and a ghost?”

Kaia thought about it for a moment. “Well… ghosts are dead people. Like my mom. And your mom.”

Claire nodded.

“Sometimes they stick around, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they just come back for a moment, like, if you’re in trouble or something,” she said. “Demons were never alive. They’re not people. So they can do a lot more than ghosts. They can hurt you. Like, really bad. And they can mess with reality.”

“How?” Claire asked keenly.

“Well, ghosts can scratch you and throw stuff, but demons can curse you. They can curse an entire family. They can grant you wishes, usually in exchange for stuff, like your firstborn son. And they can follow you and, oh, they can mess with time.”

Claire gave her such a skeptical look that Kaia broke into a smile. She bit the head off a gummy worm then asked keenly, “Do you know what a time loop is?”

Claire shook her head, taking the bag from her.

“It’s when something really bad happens, usually caused by a demon, and it’s so bad that it leaves scars in time that stretch in both directions. So like, it haunts the past as well as the future.”

Claire stared at her in awe. “You are so weird.”

Kaia grinned and shoved her.

Claire laughed. “Well, my dad’s going to take care of our ghost, or demon, or whatever.”

“He is?”

Claire nodded, swallowing a gummy worm whole. 

“Hm.” Kaia frowned. She put her phone down and withdrew a necklace from under her shirt. She unclasped it and held it out for Claire. “Here. This will keep you safe. You can give it back to me when you’re done, or when the demon’s gone or whatever.”

Claire took the necklace. It gleamed silver in the low light, and Claire saw its pendant was a five-pointed star inside of a circle. “Thanks,” she said, putting it on. 

Kaia smiled.

“So, did you build this fort?”

Kaia shook her head, picking her phone back up. “No, it’s been here forever. People like to come and draw on it. See? That one’s mine.” 

Kaia pointed at another five-pointed star and circle scratched onto the wall. Around it were other people’s drawings, too. Some had left initials, and some had drawn things like Kaia. One drawing looked extremely old. It looked like Kaia’s symbol, except it had strange letters in-between each star point. Claire decided to add her mark, too. She pulled out a pen from her backpack and scratched repeatedly until the grooves were clearly visible. Kaia looked over her shoulder to read it.

“CS & KN.”

“There,” Claire said. “Now everyone will know we were here.”

“Yeah, all the bugs and owls will be really impressed.”

Claire grinned. “Shut up.”

Claire and Kaia hung out in the fort until both of their phones died, then they climbed out, said goodnight, and headed down the path in opposite directions. Claire knew she shouldn’t have let her phone die, but her concerns about ghosts had been wiped away by funny dog videos. And even she’d never admit it, she did feel safer with Kaia’s necklace on.

As she came out of the foliage into her backyard, she saw a strange red light flashing in the distance. Her grin faded and she felt her heart beat fast against her ribs. Realizing what she was seeing, she bolted through the backyard towards the house. 

A cop car was parked on the road, its lights flashing red.


	9. Chapter 9

Claire ran to the back door of 525 Elmwood Avenue and threw it open. She dropped her bag and yelled for her dad at once. Before she could see what was happening, someone had grabbed her and hugged her.

“Claire!” Castiel’s voice was tight with worry. “I’ve been calling you!”

“Sorry, dad,” Claire said, her own voice muffled. She didn’t try to get away, though. “I’m sorry…”

When Castiel let her go, she saw her entire family sitting around the dining room table. They’d been joined by a police woman with short hair and a stern face, although at the moment she looked extremely relieved. 

“What happened?” She asked.

When Castiel didn’t answer, the officer said, “We think someone tried to break in.”

“What?” Claire glanced around. “But you were all home.” Claire saw Castiel and Jack exchange looks.

“That’s probably why they left so soon,” the officer said gently. “They must’ve kicked the door down, realized there were people home, then ran.”

Claire stared in shock. Charley and Gabe looked nervous and pale. Castiel led her into the kitchen to sit with the rest of them, and she realized the front door was gone. 

“It’ll be okay,” Castiel said. “Sheriff Mills is having a new front door brought over. We’ll install it tonight, and tomorrow we’re going to have a security system installed.”

None of the kids said anything. Even Claire went quiet. Finally, Meg leaned over to whisper in Castiel’s ear, although her voice was completely audible, “It was the ghost, Daddy. _He_ broke the door.”

Jody gave Castiel a sympathetic look, then leaned forward to speak to the children. “Whatever you’ve heard about this house, it isn’t true. There’s no such thing as ghosts. I promise.”

Despite her tough demeanour, Sheriff Mills had a warm, motherly air about her. Castiel appreciated the effort, but his family had seen too much to believe her. Before any of them could respond, the police radio went off.

“Jodieo, I’ve got a new door headed your way,” came another woman’s voice, much more brisk and cheerful than Sheriff Mills’. “You can tell Mr. Shurley it’s free of cost. And Dr. Badass…” Jody quickly tried to cover the radio, smiling awkwardly at the kids, “...will be by first thing tomorrow morning to install the security system!”

“Okay… Thank you, Donna,” she forced a smile.

“You betcha!”

“I can pay for the door,” Castiel offered at once, but Sheriff Mills waved him away.

“It’s no problem. Officer Hanscum would give you her cabin if you said you needed a place to stay,” she smiled fondly. “Now, I need to ask. Is there anyone you know who would do this?”

Castiel opened his mouth to say no, but then paused. Jack and Meg were both looking at him. 

At last he said, “No. I don’t know anyone like that.”

Officer Hanscum arrived shortly after with the new door. She was as bright and bubbly as she sounded, and she was also good with tools. She helped Castiel fit the door in while Jack tried to get the kids to bed. None of them wanted to go to bed alone, however, so Castiel set them up with a movie in the living room while the two police women took the old, battered door outside. 

Before they left, Sheriff Mills told Castiel that she’d arranged a patrol to watch over their house in shifts that night, so someone would be close by in case anything happened. Then they bade each other goodnight and headed to their cars.

Castiel was grateful to have such kind officers in Derby, but he wouldn’t have felt safe even if the FBI were camping on their lawn—Not unless they had bullets made of salt.

While Jack and the kids watched a movie in the livingroom, Castiel went out to the garage. He found what he was looking for, a combination lock, and headed back inside and up the stairs. He could see the glow of the light from the TV and heard soft talking from his kids as he reached up to lock the attic door closed. He wasn’t sure a lock would help, not after everything he’d seen, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. Something made him pause, however. Glancing back at the lights from the living room, Castiel pocketed the lock and opened the attic door. The hallway was dark and he couldn’t see anything through the small, black hole in the ceiling, but he pulled the stairs down and climbed up.

The attic smelled mouldy, which was actually a comfort to Castiel who had been expecting the smell of death. He found the pull cord for the light and turned it on. The bulb swayed back and forth as Castiel looked around at the dingy space. He wasn’t sure why he’d gone up there, but it seemed important—Like he’d forgotten something. He’d never been very intuitive, but lately it felt like something was trying to guide him, or warn him. There was nothing in the attic except spare boxes, containers, and miscellaneous supplies. It seemed impossible that a woman had committed suicide right there all those years ago.

Now that he was in the attic again, he realized how insane the paramedic’s confidential report really was. It would be nearly impossible for someone to catch fire and not have it spread. The ceiling was sloped upwards, leaving a tall empty space in the middle of the room, but there were beams and pillars everywhere and everything was made of wood. He could see where new wood had been installed after the fire, and wondered how much of the house had burned that night. 

A sudden laugh made Castiel jump, and he looked down to see he’d trodden on the Halloween clown decoration he’d thrown up there the other night. Castiel kicked it aside. Beneath the clown, he spotted the old, worn marks on the floor. Curious, he got down on his knees and wiped the dust away to reexamine them. 

Initially he’d thought the markings were from boxes being set around the room, leaking or deteriorating over time, but as he brushed more dust away he realized that was impossible. The marks were deliberate, like someone was drawing something huge and circular on the floor, and the marks in the center were something else entirely. There were four small indents, as if from a chair, and the area was blackened and stained. Castiel felt his throat constrict. Was that where it happened? Was that where Mrs. Bishop had died?

Suddenly, something Jack’s friend Charlie said came back to them. 

_“...Mary’s hand was outstretched as if she was reaching towards something.”_

Castiel’s eyes narrowed in thought. He looked over his shoulder, trying to image the direction in which Mrs. Bishop would have been reaching. Almost at once he spotted the small carving he saw just after they moved in, directly across from the blackened stain on the floor. Castiel got up. The floor creaked beneath him. He lowered his head and wiped dust off of the carving. It was a small circle with a star in the middle. Except, he hadn’t noticed the first time, there were little symbols between each point of the star. It looked strangely familiar. Castiel took out his phone and took a picture of it before heading back to the stairs.

The hallway was cool and quiet, and Castiel could hear his kids murmuring to each other again. He closed the attic up, locked it, and tucked the string out of sight.

When Castiel came back downstairs, his eyes moved to the new door. It was a nice, red door, and it didn’t have the frosted glass panels on either side. He liked this door better. He spotted a light across the street through the dining room window and thought that Mortimer must be home, watering his moon lilies. He wondered how much of the neighborhood saw the cop car. Were they already speculating what fate had befallen the latest victims of the Elmwood house?

Curious, Castiel looked through the kitchen window and spotted the patrol car parked a block away. It did make him feel a bit better, even if he knew you couldn’t shoot a ghost, but then he glanced down the other block and saw a different car parked on the street. It wasn’t a cop car. Castiel almost ignored it, until he realized it looked incredibly familiar.

Castiel checked to make sure the kids were still in the livingroom, then he walked out onto the front porch, shut the new door, and began striding down the lawn. Temper rising, he stepped out on the street and approached the car. It’s engine started at once and light flooded Castiel, but he walked right around to the driver’s side and glared at its driver.

Garth, who had clearly been trying to shift gears, was suddenly looking casual. “Hey, Dr. Shurley. I was just…”

“Get away from my house.”

“Yup. Okay. My bad,” Garth apologized at once, hurriedly putting the car into drive. “Have a good night.”

Castiel glared at him until the car moved, did an awkward five point turn in the middle of the road, then drove away. He waited until the sound of the engine faded into the night before walking back to his house. 

Castiel couldn’t believe that Garth and Dean were spying on him. Dean hadn’t been in that car, but Castiel knew he was involved. Confused and angry, he walked up to his house and went inside. He had a half a mind to finish that tequila, but he wanted to be sober. 

After triple checking that the door was locked, he settled down on the couch beside Jack, who was watching ScoobyDoo with the kids. Meg had fallen asleep where she sat, and Gabe was dozing off on Claire’s shoulder. However, when Castiel suggested they all went to bed, the kids awoke at once.

“Can’t we sleep down here?”

“I’m not going up there alone!”

“Alright, alright,” Castiel quieted them. “We can camp out here tonight.” Excited babbling broke out. “But you all have to wake up on time for school tomorrow!” He added, knowing fully well that part would be ignored. Jack smiled in amusement.

“Sleepover!”

“Don’t forget Felix!” 

Ten minutes later, all the comforters in the house had been laid out in front of the TV and all the pillows were arranged on the floor. Castiel turned off the lights, but left the bathroom light on down the hall. The TV flickered quietly while the kids fell asleep, until it was only Castiel and Jack who were awake.

“Is there still a patrol car outside?” Jack whispered.

“Yeah, I just checked.”

“That’s nice of them,” Jack said, his eyes unfocused on the glowing TV. “So, you really don’t think it was Dean?”

Castiel didn’t say anything. He was thinking about his confrontation with Garth.

“I don’t think it was,” Jack said seriously. “He doesn’t seem like the type.”

Despite everything, Castiel agreed with him. He’d been wondering if he should tell him about Garth—He’d debated telling the cop outside, too—but something told him that Dean and Garth weren’t the problems they needed to worry about at the moment. That and Jack always had a good sense about people. Castiel learned to trust it long ago. 

Castiel looked over at his youngest kids. Charley had fallen asleep in his glasses. Gabe was holding his water-gun full of holy water. Meg was snoring next to Claire, who had her arm over her. Castiel felt like a horrible father and, thinking of Dean, a horrible friend. He wasn’t sure what came over him in that moment, but as Jack dozed off beside him he quietly took out his phone. 

He texted two words to Dean, ‘I’m sorry’, and then, suppressing the feeling that it was the last time he’d ever talk to him, he put his phone away and tried to fall asleep.

  
  


Dean Winchester was sitting in his Impala in a church parking lot. It was dark and silent, and the tall, stone church loomed over them like a monument. Dean was staring out at the graveyard. The headstones gleamed in the moonlight like a marble ocean. One headstone in particular stood out to him. Even though it was one of the smallest and furthest back, Dean could see it above all the others. He could even see the two in the ground beside it, though they were hidden by the rows and rows of graves. 

Those three graves had haunted Dean for years. He could still see the pristine coffins at the bottom of the dirt pits, two of the coffins much too small to be real. He could see himself breaking each of them open. Garth had warned him that the bodies wouldn’t be pretty, but Dean had no idea. Not really. It was nights like those that made Dean wish he’d never come to Derby. But it was over. The bodies were burned. That should have been it. That should have been the end.

A car turned off the road and into the parking lot. Dean recognized it as it pulled alongside him, momentarily blinding him with light. Garth stuck his head out, looking grim.

“Hey. Why aren’t you answering your phone?” he asked.

Dean didn’t respond. His expression was stony.

“Okay, well, I got caught,” Garth sighed.

“By who?”

“Cas.”

Dean closed his eyes. “Great.”

“Yeah,” Garth said sadly. “But the sheriff’s got a patrol car out there. I think it’s that big guy, Gadreel? Anyway, I think they’ve got it handled for tonight.”

Dean scoffed.

Garth looked at him seriously. “Why don’t we go get a burger? We’ve been on patrol every night for a week now. I think we deserve a break.”

Dean stared at him, unconvinced.

“Extra bacon?” Garth smiled coaxingly.

Dean glared, but put his hand on the gear shift all the same. 

Garth beamed at him. “Awesome. Meet you at the Roadhouse.”

The Impala roared as it followed after Garth, it’s headlights fading into the night like two blood run moons.

The Roadhouse was a noisy, low lit, but extremely homey diner and bar. It was late, and the only customers were either slumped over the bar or about to be. A Winchester rifle was mounted above them, and regulars all knew it was fully loaded. Dean and Garth arrived together, and within twenty minutes they were eating their way through Derby’s greasiest and best diner food. Garth had a rootbeer float and onion rings, and Dean was on his second whiskey. 

The Roadhouse’s kitchen was closed for it being so late but the owner, Ellen, made them something anyway. Dean and Garth both knew her well—She’d gotten them out of a lot of trouble with the local authorities. Her and her husband, Bobby, had been family friends of Dean’s since he was a kid. Ellen’s daughter even went to school with Dean.

“At least they didn’t call the cops,” Garth was saying under his breath. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“I pointed a gun at his daughter,” Dean said. “He’s not letting me anywhere near his family again.”

“Here you go darlin’s,” Ellen came by with their plates. “Extra bacon… and slow down on those would you?” She looked sternly at the whiskeys around Dean. “I’ll bring you some beer.”

“You’re the best, Ellen,” Garth smiled at her.

“Uh-huh.” She smiled knowingly. “Will you want to bring Bess anything home?”

“Not tonight, thanks. She’s asleep already,” Garth said.

Ellen gave them a small smile then walked away. Garth began to eat at once, but he stopped when he noticed Dean hadn’t picked up his burger.

“Wow,” Garth said in amazement.

“What?” Dean asked, still holding the empty whiskey glass.

Garth gestured at the extra double bacon burger. Dean licked his lips impatiently and picked it up.

“You really miss him, huh?”

Dean chewed slowly, not feeling like answering. Garth waited until Ellen brought them their beers before speaking.

“Dean, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“Garth…”

“It’s just,” Garth went on humbly. “I can’t help but notice that you’re self-destructing a little bit.”

Dean chewed even slower, glaring at him.

“Alright,” Garth sighed. “We’ll just talk about the case.”

“Thank you,” Dean said.

Garth leaned back and sipped his beer. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what Meg said. Do you really think she saw Mr. Bishop?”

“That’s what she said,” Dean said. “‘He had a hammer. He attacked me.’” He repeated, then took a huge bite.

Garth considered this seriously. “And you didn’t see him yourself?”

Dean shook his head. “I just fired. And I swear, it barely phased it. It looked more annoyed than anything. But…”

Garth waited for him to continue.

“I don’t know what I saw,” he said. “Maybe it wasn’t the mom. Maybe she was a victim, too. Maybe the dad got possessed by something, killed the kids, and the mom...”

“Went crazy?” Garth offered. “Yeah, maybe. But we don’t even know if the dad is dead.” He took a thoughtful bite of his enchilada. “You know, when I was doing research on the Bishop family, Mr. Bishop’s side, I mean, I saw a lot of weird stuff. Most of his ancestors disappeared or died strange deaths. A lot of them lost children, too. Always boys, though. It’s weird. It’s like his family was cursed. Poor guy.”

Dean suddenly put his burger down and pulled out his phone. 

Garth watched him curiously. “Who’s that?”

Dean didn’t say anything. He’d put his beer down and was staring heavily at his phone.

The Elmwood house was silent and still that night. It was chilly and dark, and the cop car was the only vehicle on the street. Inside sat a broad shouldered, severe looking officer. He was watching the dark windows of number 525. The only light came from the porch, illuminating the sturdy new door.

The officer had one more hour before he switched places with his superior. His fellow officers had all jumped at the chance to monitor the legendary Elmwood house, but not Officer Gadreel. He never believed in fairy tales. That was probably why Sheriff Mills picked him. He’d accepted the job without fanfare, ignoring the incredulous looks from his friends. 

His attention was drawn back to the porch when the light flickered momentarily. Then, without warning, it went out. Officer Gadreel squinted as the darkened porch, failing to notice the icy fog creeping up his window.

Inside 525 Elmwood, Castiel and his five children were fast asleep in the living room. The only sound came from a clock ticking on the wall. The TV was off and the hallway glowed with soft light. Suddenly, something crossed it, making the room go completely dark. 

Charley had gotten up. He walked to the staircase and stopped, his head tilted towards the dark hallway upstairs. A cloud drifted across the sky outside and Charley’s face was briefly illuminated by moonlight—His eyes were closed, but his pupils were moving rapidly beneath their lids. Slowly but surely, he began to sleepwalk up the stairs.

Charley Shurely always had vivid dreams. When he was a baby, Meg would read him to sleep so he’d dream about knights and fairies. But sometimes he’d have dreams about other things. Bad things. Meg would comfort him when he came into their room, crying about his dreams. She told him that she had vivid dreams, too. She said it was a sign that he was special. Castiel rarely remembered any of his dreams, but Meg and Charley could both have written novels about theirs. 

Still, it had been a long time since Charley sleepwalked. Castiel thought it had stopped after Meg died, but on that particular night on Elmwood, Charley was having one of his dreams again. He dreamt about a small, dark room and a man tied to a chair. A woman stood in front of him, fraught with emotion. She was yelling and brandishing something at the man. He was bruised and bloody and looked like he’d been there for days. The four legs of his chair were sunken into the floor.

As Charley sleepwalked up the stairs, the house around him seemed to fly backwards in time. Number 525 had once been a picturesque farmhouse, home to four little girls and their parents. The father often left on business trips, but he always came home with gifts for their daughters. They liked to wait for him to come home in the kitchen. One day when their father came home, they knew something was wrong.

The Bishops weren’t a religious family, but Mrs. Bishop had no other explanation for it. Mr. Bishop would walk up and down the hallway for hours. He would stand in the kitchen all night long, unmoving. Mrs. Bishop didn’t know what else to do. Her mother used to tell her stories about monsters and ghosts, demons and possession. She’d never believed in those stories.

Charley’s eyes moved back and forth under their lids. His shins bumped against the steps as he walked, but he dreamt on. In the living room, his family was fast asleep. Only Claire stirred. She pushed Meg away and mumbled, ‘shhMeg…’ before falling back into a deep sleep. Claire didn’t see or feel her necklace begin to slowly rise off his chest.

Suddenly, Charley was back in that small room. Mrs. Bishop had trapped her husband in the attic while she figured out what to do. She told everyone he was away on a business trip. At last she found it—An old leather bound journal her mother had left her. It told her all she needed to know. It was a late summer night when Mrs. Bishop began to exorcise her husband.

At last Charley’s feet reached the second-floor hallway. He fumbled in the dark, tracing the familiar route to his room. But he didn’t turn into it. He walked right past it and stopped beneath the attic. Black flakes fell silently over his head. The lock was corroding as if it had been burned. Charley reached up for the pull-cord dangling above him—waiting for him. He was just tall enough. His fingers found the cord as the lock cracked and fell, hitting the floor with a thud. Downstairs, Castiel stirred.

Charley didn’t want to see the exorcisms, but he couldn’t wake himself up. He was trapped in that small attic room while Mr. Bishop screamed and cursed at his wife. There were times when he would come to his senses and beg his wife to free him. Those were the worst in Charley’s opinion. He sobbed and groaned, and Mrs. Bishop would do the same. But then Mr. Bishop would change. Charley watched from the corner of the attic in horror as, in a terrifying transformation, his face split into a grin.

“Mary…” the man’s voice gurgled and retched, like his body was trying to reject the sound coming out of it. “...he made a d...eal. They all did. You sh...ould have know...n I’d come… for it. He sh...ould have given it...to me…”

“Given what?” Mary demanded, trembling from head to foot.

“...a s...on…”

Then Mary would splash him with water from the flask and he sizzled and screamed.

Officer Gadreel had gotten out of his car. He took out his flashlight and scanned the front yard of 525 Elmwood Avenue. The grass cast long shadows over the path to the house. He thought he saw something on the porch, but when he shined his light on it there was nothing there. Confused, he lowered the light to look around the house, but there it was again—a figure standing there on the darkened porch.

“Excuse me? Miss?” He called out, approaching the porch.

Charley didn’t know how many exorcisms he watched. It was like he was trapped in a loop. At last, he realized something had changed. Days had passed, and when Mrs. Bishop climbed the attic steps to perform yet another ritual, she found the chair was empty. Mrs. Bishop’s horror reflected on Charley’s face. He watched her frantically descend the ladder, but Charley didn’t follow. He knew what she was going to find and he dreaded it with every ounce of his being. Sure enough, a scream reached his ears—a scream so terrible it made Charley want to sink into nothingness. But he couldn’t. He was in tears. And then he was beside Mrs. Bishop, watching her discover her daughters’ bodies one by one.

One was still in her bed. One was against the wall in the hallway. One was on the middle of the stairs, and the last one, the youngest, had made it all the way to the kitchen, her hand reached out for the front door. Their bodies were all unrecognizable by anyone but their own mother. 

It was there in the kitchen that Mrs. Bishop went mad. She took a sledgehammer from the basement and began breaking open the walls. She spent all night making the holes, one for each of them… The kitchen, the livingroom, the upstairs hallway, the master bathroom… She had to hide them. She had to save them from him. The kitchen, the livingroom, the hallway, the bathroom… She would make sure he never got them. She would make sure they were safe. Forever…

Charley’s expression was blank as he tugged on the cord in the hallway. The stairs fell neatly in front of him and a breeze descended from the attic, blowing the hair out of his face. It was as if something was whispering from the darkness above. Tears stained Charley’s cheeks as he dreamt on, blind to the night around him.

Downstairs, Kaia’s necklace was hovering in the air above Claire, gleaming silver in the moonlight. It became taut, like hands were pulling it by its string. She rolled over irritably and the clasp broke. The chain fell and the pendant was lost in the blankets.

When Mr. Bishop came home that night, the house was still and silent. The walls had been replastered and painted. It looked as if he’d just come home from his trip. But as he stepped into the kitchen and looked around, Charley saw Mrs. Bishop behind the door. She was deranged and dead-looking, unseen by her husband. Charley stood horrified in the kitchen, paralyzed with realization. Mrs. Bishop’s last act was going to be saving her husband, too. The attic door was open upstairs, ready to swallow his body whole. As Mr. Bishop shut the door and looked around for his wife, Mrs. Bishop raised the hammer behind him. Charley closed his eyes. 

The sound was deafening. There was a crack, then a mundane thud. When Charley opened his eyes, he and Mrs. Bishop were both staring at her husband crumpled on the floor. Blood pooling at the side of his head, gleaming in the daylight. A clock ticked somewhere in the house. And then, Mr. Bishop moved. His head drooped and spilled blood as he picked himself up. When he turned to look at his wife, he was grinning—It was a wicked, yellow-eyed smile. 

Mrs. Bishop raised the hammer again, but she froze. Charley watched in shock as she began to rise up into the air. Realization struck her and she began repeating the exorcism, but it was too late. Flames erupted around her and began consuming her clothes. She flew like a swan to the ceiling, her face contorted and her voice gone. The wall caught fire with incredible speed—It was as if it were alive, seeking out the walls and ceiling with malicious intent. Mr. Bishop was still smiling wide. Suddenly, he turned to look at Charley, his yellow eyes flickering in the firelight.

Outside, Officer Gadreel was walking up to the porch. He raised his flashlight, but instead of illuminating the figure standing there, it vanished. He lowered his light, and it was there again. Gadreel didn’t understand. 

“Ma’am? Excuse me? You need to leave,” he called out, keeping his light down. But suddenly it flickered and died.

Gadreel tried to get it working again, but the lumb was darkened and lifeless. Bewildered but determined, he began to walk up the stairs, eying the figure with growing incredulity.

As he neared her, he heard something strange. She was murmuring something in another language—Gadreel thought it sounded Latin.

“Ma’am?” Gadreel reached out to touch her.

As his fingers made contact, the figure raised its head so quickly that Gadreel backed up and fell down the steps. He just managed to grab the railing, and he watched as the figure began disintegrating in front of him like paper burning away. For a heart-stopping moment he saw its face—It had two blank holes for eyes and a mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Officer Gadreel instinctively reached for his radio, but he’d forgotten it in the car. Heart pounding, he sprinted back to the car to call for backup.

In the upstairs hallway, Charley had begun to climb the attic steps. A foul-smelling breeze came from above as the whispers beckoned him on. His nose wrinkled, but he didn’t wake. He was halfway up the stairs when he froze. His hand came up to his shirt.

“Fe...lix…nno.”

The little snake had poked his head out of Charley’s nightshirt and was trying to slither away. He moved up his shoulder, deftly avoiding Charley’s grasp, but as moved behind Charley’s neck he suddenly reared up and hissed. 

A black figure had risen behind Charley, one spider-like arm extended inches from his head. Charley was slowly waking, trying to hold Felix still. Mrs. Bishop’s black holes for eyes reflected in Felix’s beady one. Then Felix snapped his tiny jaws at her and she lunged. 

Black smoke engulfed Charley, throwing him off the attic stairs. He hit the floor with a loud thump and awoke with a start. Realizing he wasn’t in the livingroom, he rolled around just in time to see the attic stairs fly up into the ceiling as if propelled by an invisible force. The black figure was standing in front of him, swaying ominously. Then Felix hissed, the woman bore down on him, and Charley screamed.

Downstairs, Castiel awoke as if doused with cold water. He sat up so quickly that he woke Jack beside him. Jack sat up and looked around groggily. All he saw was Castiel racing up the stairs. 

“Dad?” He mumbled. 

Castiel hurled himself up the stairs two at a time and saw, to his horror, Charlie laying on the floor and begging dragged into the dark corner of the landing. A tall, inky black woman was moving backwards, taking Charley into the wall with her.

“Charley!” Castiel ran at them.

The figure’s head jerked upward and it screeched. It was a horrible, guttural sound that made Castiel’s heart turn icy and fall into his stomach. But he didn’t stop. He grabbed Charley and pulled him away from the figure, who rounded on Castiel instead. Castiel pushed Charley behind him as the woman threw herself forward, her black hair flowing all around her like a fiery halo.

Gabe, Claire, and Meg were all awake now. They were huddled around Jack, who looked torn between going upstairs to check on Castiel and Charley, and staying downstairs with the others.

“What’s happening?” Gabe asked, holding his water gun close.

Claire was looking around frantically. She suddenly felt her neck.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jack said, “Stay here, I’m going upstairs.”

“No!” Meg yelled. “It’ll get you!”

Claire looked to where she’d been sleeping and saw the pendant on the ground. She got down on all fours to grab it, but with a sudden lurch she felt herself fall sideways and slide down the floor.

“Jack!” Claire felt small hands around her ankle and kicked out in fright. “Jack!”

Jack looked around in time to see two small, soot-black arms pulling Claire into the shadowy corner beside the fireplace.

“Claire! No!” Jack leapt to his feet.

Claire tried to free herself but it was no use. She could hear voices whispering from behind the wall.

‘C...ome… in here... it’s s...afe…’

Upstairs, Castiel had been engulfed by suffocating shadow. He yelled at Charley, who suddenly ran to the bathroom and grabbed the salt stashed there. He opened it and threw the whole container into the air. The salt rained over them and the figure vanished. 

“Dad!” Charley ran to his side.

“Good… good job,” he panted. “C’mon.”

But before either of them could move, they were both distracted by a flickering light coming from behind them. They looked in unison at the spot where the broken lock had fallen. The lock was glowing red hot and the rug beneath it was beginning to smoke and curl. Flames took hold as quickly as if someone had struck a match. They grew with incredible speed, flickering in Castiel and Charley’s eyes. Castiel looked to the stairs, their only escape route, and saw small hands reaching out of the wall beside the landing, followed by arms, and then a child’s fractured head slowly emerged.

‘In...here…’

‘Don...t let h...im find you…’

Downstairs, Jack grabbed hold of Claire and pulled her from the child’s grip. She scrambled away from the fireplace, gasping with fright. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Jack assured her. “Let’s get outside, come on. Dad!” He shouted, urging Gabe, Meg, and Claire to their feet.

Jack saw Castiel and Charley reach the landing of the stairs, but there was a strange light growing behind them and smoke was beginning to billow across the ceiling.

Castiel grabbed the top of the railing and urged Charley down first. Charley obeyed, moving under his dad’s arm to climb down the stairs. His legs were shaking, and when he looked back behind Castiel’s feet his stomach dropped. He saw something crawling out of his dad’s room, illuminated by the fire. It was pulling itself with its small arms, its legs dragging uselessly behind it.

“Charley, go!” Castiel yelled. “Jack, call the fire department! Get them out of here!” 

Jack urged Gabe, Claire, and Meg to the bottom of the stairs, where he grabbed Charley as he reached the bottom. But when Jack looked back up to see Castiel descend, he saw someone else with him. Something tall and broad-shouldered was standing behind him, silhouetted by fire.

“Dad!”

It was too late. Castiel was thrown down the stairs like a ragdoll, and Jack had to push the kids out of the way. Castiel hit the railing of the staircase halfway down and the railing burst, showering the living room with wood. It sounded like a gunshot. Then he tumbled and hit the floor.

To Jack’s relief, Castiel groaned and stirred, but the fire traveling quickly down the stairs to surrounding them. It engulfed the staircase, turning it black as paint, and the fire alarm in the kitchen suddenly blared to life. Charley, Gabe, and Meg, who had been pushed aside to avoid being hit by Castiel’s fall, all ran to their dad’s side, but Jack and Claire were trapped in the kitchen by flames.

“Dad!” Charley breathed, kneeling down. Gabe was trying to spray the fire around them with his water gun.

“It’s okay,” Castiel winced with pain. His whole body ached, but nothing felt broken. “Jack!” He hollered. “Go through the kitchen window! Now!”

“Dad, what do we do?” Charley begged.

They were surrounded by blinding flames, blurring their surroundings and making their eyes water. Castiel looked around desperately, but he saw no way out.

“Daddy!” Meg shouted.

A black figure was moving towards them, rippling through the fire. Castiel saw its black, hollow eyes and hair floating around its burnt head, and held his children tight.

Suddenly, a cracking sound wrent the fiery air. A burst of fresh, night air blew through the house and Castiel turned to see Dean Winchester stepping over the busted down door, rifle in hand and face set.

A wave of relief rushed over Castiel, until he heard Mrs. Bishop shriek. She turned her attention to Dean, but Dean was already striding towards them. She flew out of the flames and Dean fired. He reloaded, then fired again. And again. He looked outright dangerous. The woman kept vanishing and reappearing, her rage equal to Dean’s, but at last she receded into the flames. Dean reached Castiel and the kids and knelt down.

“Dean…” Castiel said, his voice weak but grateful.

“C’mon, we gotta get everyone out of here.”

But he couldn’t get Castiel up fast enough.

“Dean!” Charley shouted.

He turned just in time to see Mrs. Bishop rise out of the flames and lunge at him. She threw him into the stairs and he only just managed to hang onto his rifle. But he couldn’t reload fast enough. The shells hit the ground and rolled into the growing inferno as Mrs. Bishop bore down on them, arms extended towards Castiel.

Suddenly, a white light shone through the flames, stopping Mrs. Bishop in her tracks. Dean, Castiel, and the kids all looked up to see another figure emerging from the flames. Mrs. Bishop’s wrath was nothing compared to this woman’s. Her dark hair was flying around her pale, strong face, translucent but clearly visible.

“Mom?” Meg whispered.

The adult Meg lifted her arm and Mrs. Bishop was hurled back into the fire. Flames went out all around Meg, irradiated by her light. She was creating a path for them to escape.

Castiel stared at her in shock, unable to look away. She grinned at him, then gave Dean a bold look. Dean understood. While Meg circled her family, protecting them from Mrs’s fury, Dean got the kids to their feet.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Dean hollered above the roar of the flames. He picked Meg up, then put her firmly in Charley’s arms. “Take your siblings outside as fast as you can. Don’t look back. Now, Charley! Go!”

Charley obeyed. With one last look at his mother and Castiel, he grabbed Gabe and pushed him forward, then they ran through the tunnel of fresh air and over the fallen, red door. 

Charley and Gabe, ran into the cool, Autumn air, with little Meg held tightly in Charley’s arms. All three of them gasped and coughed, glistening with sweat. It was like coming out of water. They barely had time to catch their breath before Jack grabbed them gratefully. There was no time for tearful reunions, however. Jack hurried them across the yard and away from the growing inferno, which heated the back of their necks all the way to the street. 

As they crossed the road, Charley realized there were cop cars everywhere and neighbors had started gathering outside. Claire was waiting for them on the sidewalk and hugged them frantically as they approached.

“Did you see her? Did you see mom?” She asked at once.

Charley wiped his eyes. “Yeah. She saved us.”

Claire looked at Jack in frightened excitement.

“She opened the window,” Jack explained, “so we could get out.”

Officer Mills had arrived and was hurrying over to them. 

“Where’s dad?” Jack asked.

“He’s inside with Dean,” Gabe answered while Charley caught his breath.

Jack looked back at the house in fright. Charley, Gabe, Claire, and Meg were all huddled together in their pajamas on the sidewalk. They stared at their house as it burned, illuminating the entire town of Derby. Felix poked his head out of Charley’s shirt, smelling the air with his tongue.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe inside 525 Elmwood. Smoke was swirling thickly on the ceiling as the house burned. Dean was on his knees, helping Castiel to his feet.

“You’re a firefighter too, huh?” Castiel half smiled.

“Only on Sundays,” Dean grinned at him. “Are you hurt?”

Castiel shook his head, steadying himself. “No. Where’s…” he turned around and saw Meg moving around them. She gave them a fierce look as if to hurry them along.

“We gotta go, c’mon,” Dean said.

But Castiel didn’t know if he had the strength to turn away from her. He knew if he stayed he’d end up exactly like Mrs. Bishop, but a part of him longed for it. Then he thought of his kids. He thought about his family, his patients, and he thought about Dean, who was standing there in the flames beside him. Ultimately, it was Meg’s reassuring smile back at them that made Castiel turn to leave. Meg gave Dean one more bold look, then resumed protecting their exit.

Suddenly, a groaning sound echoed through the house. It was louder than the flames, like it was coming from the earth itself. Meg gave Castiel and Dean a fleeting look then vanished like a burst light bulb. Mrs. BIshop had fled, too. Upstairs, in the flame drenched hallway, the attic door had disintegrated.

Another groan shook the walls like that of a sinking ship, and Castiel and Dean both looked up the stairs in unison. A dark figure, large and broad, was descending the stairs. Fiery chaos reigned around it, and Dean knew who it was at once. 

The fire turned black and danced around Mr. Bishop as he descended the stairs. Each step crumbled to ash beneath him, the remains rising slowly into the air. He raised a blackened sledgehammer into the air, aimed it at Castiel and Dean, and threw it. They ducked just in time and the hammer cracked the wall opposite the staircase with a bang.

Dean knew it was no use, but he raised his gun and fired. The salt round shot a hole through the figure, but it was almost instantly swallowed up by darkness. Dean didn’t bother reloading. Castiel had seized Gabe’s water gun. It was hot to the touch, but he squeezed the trigger. Holy water flew through the air and the black figure sizzled as if it were acid. It roared and vanished into the flames. 

Dean stared wildly at Castiel. “What the Hell was that?”

“Holy water!” Castiel shouted.

Dean stared at him in amazement. For a wild moment, Castiel swore he looked at him the same way he’d looked at bacon a few mornings ago. It felt like an eternity had passed since then.

Their relief was temporary, however. The figure was reforming in the black flames.

“Go! Go!” Dean shouted, urging Castiel towards the front door. The fire had almost reclaimed their path to freedom. As they crossed the burning kitchen, Castiel had to drop the melting water gun. Amidst the chaos, the figure had summoned the sledgehammer to him once again. Dean looked back for a split second and saw that the figure of Mr. Bishop had begun to change. Horns rose to the ceiling and many limbs were now outstretched, and Dean knew that Mr. Bishop had been devoured a long time ago. 

As they crossed the kitchen, the monstrosity raised the hammer again. There was a rush of air, a crack of bone breaking, and a groan of pain as Dean fell.

“Dean!”

Castiel dropped to Dean’s side. Dean was clutching his leg and blood was darkening his jeans. Castiel could see where he’d been hit and knew at once that his knee was broken.

“Cas, run!” Dean gritted his teeth. 

Castiel looked up at the figure bearing down on them, then at the escape route shrinking before his eyes. There was nothing left to do. He seized Dean’s gun and knelt over him, taking aim at the figure. He’d never fired a gun in his life, but that didn’t seem to matter now. The figure raised the sledgehammer again and Castiel squeezed the trigger just like he had with the water gun.

A shot rang out, muffled by the roaring flames and temporarily stunning Castiel’s eardrums. The figure fell back into the fire with a gaping hole in its head. Castiel knew he didn’t have long.

“Cas, you need to leave. Your kids…” Dean groaned.

“I’m not leaving you,” Castiel said fiercely. “Hold still.”

Dean watched helplessly as Castiel attempted to rip his ruined jeans. He finally found the right angle and Dean heard the zipperlike sound of tearing denim. Castiel wrapped the material around his knee so tightly that he swore.

“Lay down, breathe,” Castiel commanded, tearing off more fabric. He even took a strip of his own pajama pants which had gotten singed.

Dean watched, light-headed, as Castiel grabbed a fallen curtain rod and secured it to Dean’s leg, creating a makeshift splint. The rod was hot, but not enough to burn Dean’s skin. Castiel tied knots above and below the wound, making Dean wince. Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed tightly.

“Just breathe. You won’t be able to put any weight on it so you’ll have to hold on to me.”

“Derby’s most overqualified PT,” Dean managed a pained smile, but it gave Castiel strength.

Suddenly, Castiel saw Dean’s eyes flash upwards. Before Castiel could even turn around, Dean had grabbed the rifle beside them and fired. Castiel didn’t need to ask why. He could feel the dark presence behind him retreat, but only momentarily. He finished tying up Dean’s knee with surprising speed. When he released it, Dean felt like his leg was being compressed from all sides. Castiel sat him up slowly, but Dean’s breathing instantly became shallow. Castiel could feel it, too. The flames were consuming all the oxygen in the room and they could no longer see the outside through the front doorway. Castiel tried not to think about it.

“C’mon, lean on me. Don’t put any pressure on your leg,” Castiel said, helping Dean to his feet. “Hurry.”

Dean nodded, but then swayed and fell. Castiel couldn’t keep him up. He couldn’t get enough air. 

The house groaned all around them, spreading fear through Castiel like poison. The horned figure was rising up again, it’s eyes so yellow that it made the fire around them look black. 

They were out of time. A strange chill passed through them both. For a moment Castiel wondered if it was death. But then they both saw, as if through a tunnel, Mrs. Bishop rising up over them, staring down the creature that had destroyed her family. She screeched, and it raised his sledgehammer.

The entire neighborhood was standing outside of the burning house, watching the scene of destruction. Firefighters had arrived and were spraying water through the windows, but none of them were going near the blaze. Officer Gadreel was keeping everyone back, and Sheriff Mills was trying to keep the kids calm. Mortimer was standing amongst the crowd looking grave. Sheriff Mills kept glancing anxiously at Jack, who was being held back by Garth.

“Go in there!” Jack was shouting at the firefighters. “What are you waiting for? Save my dad!” 

Garth looked heartbroken.

“Let me go!” Jack raged. “I’m going back in!”

A crashing sound suddenly echoed throughout the neighborhood, and they realized the roof had collapsed. A huge plume of smoke rose into the air, blocking out the moon. It sent a chill through the murmuring crowd and everyone went silent. Officer Mills turned the kids away from the scene. Garth was barely holding onto Jack. Charley had joined him, holding onto Jack’s wrist. Gabe and Claire were both looking stunned and teary-eyed at Officer Mills, but Meg had peered back at the house. 

“Mommy?” she said.

Her tiny voice seemed to echo around them, and Sheriff Mills and Garth both looked around. The place where the front door had once been was dark. Smoke billowed out of it, as if a tunnel had opened up, but there was no one there.

Then, two heads emerged, ducked low. Everyone watched as two people ran out onto the lawn, one half carrying the other.

Garth stared in shock. He and Charley both released Jack, who sprinted up the lawn. Firefighters followed after him, and they all converged on Castiel and Dean who were blackened with soot but alive.

A stretcher was brought to them at once and Castiel helped several paramedics lay Dean on it. One paramedic gave Castiel an oxygen mask and helped him walk. It seemed to take them forever to cross the street. The crowd was talking loudly now, but the kids and Office Mills were all silent. The moment Castiel reached them he took the mask off, fell onto his knees, and hugged as many of his kids as he could at once. 

Sheriff Mills clasped Castiel’s shoulder, wiping her eyes. She was speechless.

The hug seemed to last a lifetime. Finally, Meg asked, “Is Dean okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel rasped. “He’ll be just fine.” 

Garth had rushed over to Dean as they loaded him into the ambulance. Officer Hanscum and a red-headed paramedic were tending to him as they got ready to leave. He was chalk-white beneath his soot-covered face, but he was smiling. Garth looked fraught with worry.

“No house, no ghost, right?” Dean greeted Garth.

Garth chuckled in relief. “You crazy son of a bitch. What happened?”

“ _She_ saved us,” he said, still grinning slightly, and Garth stared at him in surprise.

“M...mary?”

Dean nodded. He looked over to see Sheriff Mills, Castiel, and his family all coming to see him. When Castiel reached Garth, Garth looked to him for confirmation.

“Mary Bishop?” He whispered. “She saved you?”

Castiel nodded stoically. “Between her and Meg… the ghost was no match.”

Garth gaped at them all, but he was beginning to smile. “Well, that’s one way to do it.” He beamed, patting Dean’s arm in triumph. “You did it!”

Dean grinned. “We did it.” He spotted Charley’s pale face amidst Castiel’s kids and said, “You did good, Charley. You all did. It’s finally over.”

Castiel rubbed Charley’s shoulder, then took Dean’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Dean smiled at him.

“Alright, we’ll take him first,” the red-headed paramedic said. “Who’s going with?”

“I am,” Garth said. He started to get into the ambulance, but then paused and turned to Castiel. He looked like he wanted to apologize, but before he could say a word Castiel pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” Castiel said.

Garth hugged him back readily. “Anytime, amigo.” Then he hopped up into the ambulance and gave the kids a thumbs up. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Castiel said to Dean.

Dean winked at him and Castiel chuckled weakly. He stood back with his kids as the ambulance shut its door and pulled away, sirens blazing.

“Did you see her?” Meg asked Castiel. “Did you see mom?”

Castiel smiled at her. He could see the beginnings of relief begin to fill his children’s eyes.

“I did.”

Meg smiled proudly. “I knew it.”

Castiel, Jack, Charley, Gabe, Claire, and Meg all stood together, watching the firefighters extinguish the house in silence. The acrid smell of death seemed to spread over the entire town. It was a terrible smell, but no one on the street was turning away from it. In fact, neighbors were looking over at Castiel’s family and speaking in relieved voices. Mortimer gave him a rare smile. 

It was a terrible, wonderful smell—The smell of death, and resurrection. Of renewal, and of life.


	10. Chapter 10

The city of Wichita was a bustling community in south central Kansas. Even in the middle of the chilly September night, the city was aglow with warmth and light. Nestled alongside the Little Arkansas River sat St. Francis Hospital, rising up over a block of medical buildings.

St. Francis had received an emergency call to tell them a house had burned down in nearby Derby and two men were being brought in for immediate care. It was just another night at St. Francis, until the staff realized that one of the men was Castiel Shurley.

Castiel had been a medical student at St. Francis. He and his wife both worked there for years, but after Meg’s untimely death Castiel left the hospital to care for his children. He’d been less than six months from becoming a registered physician and had been one of the most promising young doctors. 

Everyone was sad to see him go. He’d been an exemplary resident of St. Francis and the Chief of Medicine had high hopes for him, but she couldn’t persuade him to stay. So Castiel quit and moved to the nearby Health and Healing building to take up a position as a Physical Therapist. His hours were cut nearly in half, as well as his paycheck, but he would be able to raise his children alone. 

Years later, his eldest son from a previous marriage would become their newest medical student. The staff adored Jack, not only because he was the spitting image of Castiel but because he was extraordinarily gifted and kind. 

Megan Shurley had been a registered nurse before she died. The Shurley’s relationship, while a healthy one, was the subject of much gossip among the staff. There was no doubt in anyone’s minds that Castiel and Meg were deeply in love, but Meg was much more troublesome than Castiel. She was a skilled nurse, but she had little patience for rules and regulations and she often butted heads with other staff, including the Head Nurse and many physicians. The Chief of Medicine wasn’t nearly as fond of her as she was of Castiel. Still, her death was tragic. It marked the loss of not only a talented nurse but of an equally talented physician, Castiel.

Therefore, when St. Francis received word that Castiel Shurley was coming in for immediate care on that cold, August night, the entire hospital went into a frenzy of speculation and surprise.

The first man to arrive at the hospital was Dean Winchester. He was suffering from smoke inhalation, multiple burns, and a shattered knee. The staff was surprised to see that the stint he was wearing hadn’t been constructed from materials from the ambulance. It was effective nevertheless, and after some quick x-rays Dean was rushed into surgery.

A half hour later Castiel Shurley was brought in. It was always surreal when a member of staff was brought to work via ambulance, and this was no different. Jack and his siblings came in with him, and after a quick check-up they were taken to the staff lounge while Castiel was x-rayed and treated for smoke inhalation.

Once they were sure Castiel hadn’t sustained any serious injuries, he was allowed to stay in the staff lounge with his family while they waited for Dean. The moment he came out of surgery, Castiel was let into his room to see him.

As Castiel stepped into Dean’s room, he was glad to see Dean was conscious and talking to his nurse, a dark haired woman Castiel knew well. She gave Castiel a knowing look which Castiel remembered well. It was the ‘this one’s a handful’ look. Dean was clearly still drugged and was hitting on her. Castiel suppressed the urge to smile and went to Dean’s bedside. He had a thick cast from his thigh to his shin and was wearing a hospital gown. When he saw Castiel he grinned toothily. Castiel couldn’t help but smile. He had never seen anyone look so carefree in a patient grown and cast.

“Cas, I am… so high right now.”

Castiel and the nurse both grinned.

“Is he giving you any trouble, Tess?” Castiel asked her.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said smartly. “Good to see you again, Cas.”

“You, too.”

Once Tessa left, Castiel looked to Dean. Dean had gotten his color back, and he was more freckly than ever. He looked like he had a sunburn. He still had some soot in his hair, and he had some stitches on his shoulder and forearm, not to mention the cast. Castiel was surprised that anyone in that state could look so handsome. Castiel reached out for Dean’s hand and Dean took it, grinning at him again.

“So I get the royal treatment right? Since I’m friends with a doctor?”

Castiel chuckled. “Definitely. I’ll make sure you get the good drugs.”

Dean closed in his eyes, savoring it. “You’re an angel, Cas.” When he opened his eyes again he gazed up at Castiel fondly.

Castiel’s smile faded, however. A fresh wave of guilt was coursing through him.. “Dean… I’m sorry. About everything.”

“Don’t… don’t apologize,” he said, still grinning slightly. “Of all the people to blow me off after sex… you’re only the one with a legitimate excuse.” Then he leaned forward and said, “Cuz, if you didn’t notice… you were being haunted.”

Castiel stared at him in amusement. “I did. I did notice that.”

Dean chuckled, but his smile soon faded, too, making him look ill for the first time. “I should’ve told you what I was.”

“You mean, that you’re… Ghostfacers?”

Dean grinned, taking mock offense. “Hey…”

Castiel smiled.

“I’m serious,” he said, slurring slightly. “I just wanted to keep you safe. You and your family. You should have never found out about the ghosts… or me.”

For the first time since Dean had been hit with the sledgehammer he looked pained, and Castiel knew it wasn’t from his surgery. 

“Dean,” Castiel said. “You saved my life. You saved my children's lives. If it weren’t for you…” he took a breath, unable to verbalize the thought. He squeezed Dean’s hand instead. “I’m grateful I met you. I’m grateful for everything you did.”

Dean smiled. Castiel thought he saw his green eyes water.

They heard a knock on the door and turned to see Dean’s doctor come in to meet him. Castiel smiled when he saw her.

“Hannah,” he said.

“Hello, Castiel,” she smiled at him. She was a tall woman with dark blue eyes and a firm yet kind smile.

Standing beside her was another woman with short, greyish blonde hair. She was shorter than Hannah but looked much more intimidating. She was smiling, but it didn’t extend to her eyes.

As Dr. Hannah introduced herself to Dean, the other doctor spoke to Castiel.

“Castiel. May I have a word?”

Castiel looked back at Dean, then got up and followed the Chief of Medicine into the hallway.

“Nice to see you again,” she said at once.

Castiel forced a smile. “You too, Naomi.”

“I don’t get to speak with you nearly as much anymore.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. That was one of the things he enjoyed about working in another building. Naomi was one of the best Chiefs the hospital had seen over the years, but she wasn’t the most empathetic person. Most of the other staff respected her out of fear and Castiel, despite being her favorite, had never forgotten how she treated Meg.

“Well,” she went on, “I realize this is a hard time for you, what with losing your house and everything, but I want you to know that if you need anything at all, we’re here for you.”

Castiel hesitated. He hadn’t given the house any thought at all up to that point, but at her word he realized that his family was in fact homeless. Still, he appreciated the gesture. “Thank you, that’s very kind,” he said. “I expect we’ll have to stay in a hotel for a while. I have insurance but I don’t know how long that will take.”

Naomi considered this. “Well, I’ll see if I can arrange something. You and your family can stay here for the time being.”

Castiel smiled in thanks. Even if he didn’t fully trust Naomi, he was grateful for the assistance. 

In the staff lounge, the kids were having a good time with the nurses and doctors who were taking their breaks. They all loved Castiel’s kids, even Gabe who kept startling them by carrying Felix around. Castiel knew he was doing it on purpose, but he couldn’t help but smile when the nurses leapt back from him, making Gabe giggle. Meg was the center of attention, but Claire had gravitated to the surgeons who could answer all of her awe-struck questions about brain surgery and amputations. Even Charley was having a good time with Jack and Jack’s friend Sam. Samandriel had just started his shift and came by to see them all. He was a good-natured young man who hadn’t seemed to age at all since high school. 

As dawn broke, Castiel and Jack found a quiet room for the kids to get some sleep. They only agreed to it if Castiel and Jack stayed in the room with them, so they set themselves up in chairs opposite the kids’ beds and talked quietly in the dark for a while. Outside, the sky was lightening as Sunday turned imperceptibly to Monday.

The shock of everything that had happened and the relief that they all got out of it one piece was gradually replaced by the overwhelming reality of what was to come. They had a lot of work ahead of them and it settled like a debilitating weight on Castiel’s chest. 

While the kids slept Castiel and Jack began making phone calls to insurance companies, schools, and Castiel’s clients. Jack decided to talk a week off of school to help out. Castiel initially refused, then conceded to it as long Jack attended his online classes. Then they took shifts watching over the kids so they could both get a few hours sleep. Their rest didn’t last long. Castiel got a phone call at eight o'clock and stepped into the hallway to answer it.

Sheriff Mills told him over the phone that their house had been put out at last, but not much had survived. She offered to drive him back to get his car and see the house for himself. So while Jack watched over the kids, Castiel got a ride back to Derby with Sheriff Mills.

When they turned onto Elmwood Avenue, Castiel’s heart sank. He could see the empty patch of sky where his house had been before they rounded the bend in the road. Sure enough, the second floor was gone, and most of the first was blackened and destroyed. A surprising number of items came out of the wreckage, however, and the garage and cars had been completely untouched. Castiel remembered with a rush of relief how many boxes he’d put in storage above the garage. Most of the family photo albums were safe, along with several boxes of clothes, toys, and other things that everything else that didn’t fit in the small attic. His fire-proof safe had melted which no one seemed able to explain, nor could they explain how the things inside like Castiel’s wedding rings and other invaluable possessions had remained untouched. Feeling numb but grateful for everything he still had, he loaded up his van with Sheriff Mill’s help.

When the last box was securely in place, Castiel slid the door shut and thanked Sheriff Mills.

“By the way,” she said before Castiel got into his van. “I had a forensic team come by, given the history of the house. They never could do a full examination back when… well, after the Bishop family died. Not without destroying the house anyway. But now...”

It took Castiel a moment to realize what she was telling him. “Did they find anything?”

Sheriff Mills had an odd look on her face, halfway between grim and relieved. “They did. They found remains of the other two children.”

Castiel raised his brows.

“We think, anyway,” she added quickly. “All they found were bone fragments, but we’re pretty sure it’s them. I don’t know if you knew, but there was another fire in your house a while back. If I’m not mistaken, the first fire took place in the same location where we uncovered the fragments today. We think the two missing kids had been cremated this whole time.”

Castiel looked back at the dark wreckage of his house. All four children had been there, after all.

“But they’re at peace now. All of them,” Sheriff Mills said. “And we are, too.” She smiled at him. Castiel could have sworn she looked proud.

“Well, if you need any more houses burned down…” he smiled wearily.

She chuckled. “I’ll let you know. Now get back to your kids. I’ll be in touch soon.”

https://i.ibb.co/sWtwSw9/dcbb-divider.png

When Castiel arrived back at the hospital, all of his kids were awake. The curtains were open and several people were sitting around the table with them. Jack and Garth were there, chatting animatedly, and to Castiel’s surprise Mortimer Todd was at the table with a basket full of food. The kids were all grouped around him.

Charley came running up to Castiel at once. “Dad, look! Mortimer gave me these. They’re seeds. He said they’ll grow moon-lilies, and once we get a new house he’ll come and help us make a whole garden.”

Castiel beamed at Mortimer. “That sounds great, Charley.”

Castiel had brought some of the kids’ old clothes to change into and then, at their insistence, they all went to visit Dean. They found him lying in bed, surrounded by several young nurses who were all giggling. When Castiel walked in, Dean gave him a sheepish smile. The nurses left so Castiel and the kids could visit with him, and Castiel could have sworn some of them cast him annoyed looks. Garth chuckled and Castiel felt himself flush. 

The boys and Claire were all fascinated by Dean’s cast.

“Wow, they cut open your knee?” Claire was asking.

Dean chuckled, then told them all the gorey details. Gabe and Claire were thrilled. Charley looked slightly nauseous. Meg was sitting on Dean’s bed with him and eating his jell-o.

After a while, Claire found some dry-erase markers which prompted Gabe to ask if they could sign his cast. Castiel stepped in quickly.

“No, I don’t think he wants…”

“Hell yeah,” Dean said. He flashed Castiel a smile, who gave him a ‘you’ll regret this’ look. Garth and Jack were both laughing.

True to Castiel’s warning, signing the cast quickly devolved to coloring aimlessly all over it, although Dean didn’t seem to mind. Meg was drawing a long snake eating a ghost and humming happily.

Slowly but surely, the conversation turned to the house. Amidst the chaos of arriving at the hospital none of them had truly discussed anything about the previous night, so when the kids started asking questions Castiel shut the door to Dean’s room for some privacy. 

The adults all seemed to silently agree that a conversation was due, so Castiel started by telling Dean and Garth everything that had happened since they moved in. The kids helped here and there, and Castiel could tell Dean and Garth were both hiding their horror from them as they listened. In return, Dean and Garth both confessed to having known about the house for years. They’d been trying to get rid of the ghosts to protect the families that moved in, but nothing had worked. Still, neither of them had ever heard of a haunting as bad as what Castiel’s family had gone through. 

Then, when they got to the night of the fire, Castiel paused and looked to Charley. Castiel had only woken up because he heard Charley scream. Charley admitted he’d been sleepwalking, but Castiel could tell he didn’t want to say anymore about it so Castiel took over again. He told them about the fire starting from the attic lock, and about Mr. Bishop throwing him down the stairs. Jack told them how the fire had cut him and Claire off from the others, and how they only escaped because the kitchen window had flown open.

Castiel noticed Claire subtly wipe her eyes. 

Meg spoke for her, vocalizing the entire family’s thoughts, “Mom.”

Garth looked around at them all. “Your mom was there? You mean...”

Castiel and Dean exchanged looks. All of Castiel’s kids, even Jack, were looking at them.

“We saw her ghost last night,” Castiel said at last. “She saved us.”

This amazing pronouncement was met with watery smiles from the kids, and even Garth. It seemed that none of them felt the full gravity of seeing Meg again until that moment. 

“Do you think…” Charley finally asked. “Do you think she’s still around?”

Castiel had thought about that a lot over the night. But his intuition said, “No. I think she only came back for a moment. I think she moved on a long time ago.”

Charley looked a little sad, but he nodded.

“She’ll always be with you, though,” Garth said gently. “You don’t need to be a ghost to stay with someone forever.”

Gabe, Claire, and Meg didn’t look like they understood, but Charley did.

Castiel continued the story when they were ready, this time with help from Dean. They told them what happened after Charley, Gabe, and Meg got out of the house. Gabe was thrilled to hear about his dad using the water gun, although Claire was more interested in him using a shotgun. She was staring at him, dumbfounded and smiling slightly.

Castiel gave her a look.

“I want to shoot a gun,” she said at once, then looked to Dean. “Can you teach me?”

Dean glanced at Castiel, hiding a smile. “Sure I can. I don’t think the nurses will like us shooting at their whiteboard, too, we’d better wait a while.”

“Ugh, if only you had the grenade launcher!” Gabe realized.

Castiel chuckled, but was suddenly struck by the possibility that despite all the jokes Dean might just have a grenade launcher in the back of his car. Castiel stared at Dean in realization, who innocently changed the subject back to the fire.

They only paused again at the very end when they’d run out of air and Mrs. Bishop returned.

“So, she saved you?” Jack asked, perplexed. “I thought she was the one who…”

Castiel and Dean both looked at each other. Garth was looking at Dean, but it was Charley who answered.

“She was innocent,” he said quietly. “I… I dreamt about it.”

Everyone turned their attention to Charley.

He glanced at his dad, who was smiling gently, and explained, “She didn’t hurt her kids. The dad did. She was trying to save them. But… she failed. I think she was trying to protect us from… whatever was inside Mr. Bishop.”

There was a silence, in which Claire huffed and said, “Great job. She really nailed that one.”

Everyone, including Charley, laughed. 

Garth was looking impressed. “We spent years trying to get rid of that thing, and all it took was two pissed off moms. Jeez. I’d better call Bess.”

As the tension eased up in the room, Dean asked Charley, “You dreamt about Mrs. Bishop?” 

Charley nodded.

“Hm,” Dean said. “My brother used to do that. He’d have dreams about stuff that… well, there was no way he could’ve known it.”

Charley looked to him in astonishment. 

Castiel was smiling. “His mother did, too. She always said Charley was special.”

“He’s psychic,” Gabe corrected, awestruck.

Charley pushed him, smiling embarrassedly. “No, I’m not.”

“Your mom would have been proud of you. All of you,” Castiel said fondly.

Finally, Castiel told Dean and Garth what Sheriff Mills had said. As he suspected they were both amazed by the information. They told Castiel that cremating someone usually does away with their ghost. Although they’d burned Mrs. Bishop’s body and the two children’s, and all three of them showed themselves the previous night. It looked like burning the house down did the trick.

“So, what about Mr. Bishop?” Jack asked at last. “Do you think he’s gone, too?”

Castiel, Dean, and Garth exchanged looks.

“I think so,” Dean said. “I think it was all tied to that house.”

They all considered this for a moment. Castiel, Dean, and Garth all understood the ramifications of Mr. Bishop’s possession, but they decided to leave talk of demons out of the conversation. Ghosts were enough to contend with, at least for the time being. 

“So you guys really hunt ghosts?” Claire asked. “You just… drive around and find haunted houses?”

Dean and Garth looked at each other.

“Yeah,” Garth admitted. “Pretty much.”

Claire grinned. “That’s cool. Dad, can I…?”

“No,” Castiel said at once.

Dean and Garth laughed.

Sheriffs Mills and Hanscum both arrived later in the day to check on The Shurley family. It turned out that they were right about the bones. They belonged to the two missing kids and they’d been exposed to the elements for years, suggesting they’d been cremated for a long time. As far as the Sheriffs were concerned, their biggest unsolved case was officially solved.

Castiel and Garth both decided not to tell them about Mr. Bishop. The legend of the Bishop family had become larger than life and, as far as they were concerned, the fact that they knew the truth was enough. It was like Sheriff Mills had said, the Bishops were finally at rest.

As they all caught up, Castiel told them he was going to be staying in a hotel once Dr. Naomi arranged it. True to Sheriff Mills’ word, Sheriff Hanscum immediately offered them her cabin instead.

“It has five rooms, a fully stocked fridge, and a jacuzzi,” she beamed.

Charley, Gabe, Claire, and Meg looked up pleadingly at their father. Castiel chuckled.

“That sounds great, Sheriff…”

She smiled the widest of them all. “Call me Donna.”

As the afternoon faded into evening, Castiel and Jack took the kids to get dinner. Garth suggested the Roadhouse, so they all went together. All Castiel had eaten since Sunday night was hospital food, pickle chips, and some jello. As they left, they passed a tall man around Jack’s age walking into the hospital. He looked vaguely familiar, but Castiel was too preoccupied with food to give it any thought. 

Dean wished he could’ve gone to the Roadhouse with the others, but Dr. Hannah told him it was too soon. It would be a few days at least before he could get back on his feet, and then he would need to start physical therapy. 

Dean gave her a wry smile at this and said, “I think I know a guy.”

Still, Dean hated being stuck in bed, especially in a hospital, and when Dr. Hannah left Dean found his solitude to be almost unbearable. His only solace, aside from endlessly flipping through soap operas, was examining the drawings on his cast. When Dr. Hannah had seen them she gave him a dubious look, to which Dean had merely smiled. 

He was just settling in for an evening of restless boredom when he saw someone in jeans and flannel come into the room. Dean stared at him in surprise.

Dean’s younger, but taller, brother was standing in the doorframe looking windswept and pale.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said blankly.

Sam smiled weakly. “It’s Sam.”

Dean mirrored his smile.

“Can I come in?”

Dean gestured to a chair by his bed and Sam sat down in it. His hair was as long as ever, and he’d gotten a little broader in the shoulders.

“Long time,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “I just heard about what happened.”

“From who?”

Sam’s jaw stiffened slightly. “Dad.”

Dean looked impassive. He didn’t say anything at all. Sam, on the other hand, looked as if he’d just driven all night and day and spent the entire time in a state of constant worry. He gave Dean a guilty, sad sort of smile, and Dean felt the tightness in his chest melt away.

“You drove all the way from California?” Dean asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

Dean nodded, impressed. “Guess you’re not a grandma behind the wheel afterall.” He smiled. “I’m glad you came.”

Sam looked up.

“I could use a servant.”

Sam smiled at last. “Screw you.”

Dean grinned.

Something seemed to shift between them, and they both relaxed, eying each other fondly.

“So what happened?” Sam asked, bewildered.

Dean wasn’t sure what to tell him. In the end, he settled on the truth. He told him he’d been ghost hunting. Sam looked conflicted at this, but by the time Dean finished his story, he was open-mouthed with astonishment. It took a few long minutes for him to respond. He seemed to be battling his own skepticism. 

At last he seemed to accept it, because he replied, “You know, I was always worried you’d go the same way as Dad. And instead you almost went out like mom.” He laughed weakly, wiping his eyes.

Dean smiled slightly. Sam looked halfway between relieved and sad.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Dean,” he said seriously. “I just wish… I wish I had been there.”

Years ago, Dean would have agreed with that. But instead he said, “Nah. You belong in college.” He said. “You do. You’re the smart one, the ambitious one…”

“I’m your brother,” Sam said firmly. “That’s…” his confidence wavered for a moment, but he pressed on, “that’s what I want to be.” 

Dean’s throat tightened and he didn’t dare reply.

“So I thought, while you’re cooped up, maybe I could stay down here and help you out. If you want me to, I mean. And after that maybe Jess and I could come visit once in a while.”

A strange emotion was filling Dean that rendered him momentarily speechless. He stared at Sam, realizing how much he’d grown. and he suddenly understood what he was feeling was pride. 

“That sounds great, Sammy,” he smiled.

Sam grinned at him. He suddenly looked like the little kid who followed Dean around his whole life. “Sorry...” Sam fought back his smile, feigning seriousness. “Is this too chick-flick-y for you?”

“More like Days of Our Lives,” Dean chuckled. “Jerk.”

Sam smiled back. “Bitch.”

Sam and Dean sat around drinking water from small plastic cups and catching up. Dean even told him a bit about Castiel.

Dean had never come out to Sam, strictly speaking, but he always suspected that Sam knew. Sure enough, Sam didn’t ask any questions. In fact, it seemed Sam had suspected something about Castiel since Dean first began telling him about the Elmwood house. Sam looked genuinely happy for him. He obviously liked the sound of Castiel more than he’d ever liked any of Dean’s girlfriends.

If someone had asked Dean twenty-four hours ago what he’d be doing that evening, he would have never guessed sitting around and chatting with his younger brother. Yet, Dean couldn’t remember ever being more content.

As Sam was getting ready to leave, someone came into the room. Dean assumed it was Nurse Tessa and quickly fluffed his hair, but it was Castiel. He was carrying a large paper bag with a grease stain on the bottom. Dean flushed.

“Hey Cas,” he smiled.

Sam did a double-take. Sure enough, a man with strikingly blue eyes had come in and stopped at the sight of him. Dean hadn’t told Sam how much older Castiel was, but Sam was the judgemental type. Sure enough, Sam smiled and shook his hand. “Hey, I’m Sam. Dean’s brother.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, I’ve heard about you.”

Sam looked hesitant at that, but Castiel’s friendly smile eased his doubts.

“What’s that, Cas?” Dean asked hopefully.

“A double bacon cheeseburger. I had to sneak it in. Dr. Hannah isn’t a fan of grease so…”

Sam shot Dean a sly look. Dean cleared his throat, flushing even more, and took the bag stealthily. “You’re the best, Cas.”

Castiel flushed, too.

“Well,” Sam cleared his throat. “I’ll see you guys later.” Then he shot Dean a grin and left him to his burger, and to Castiel.

Castiel sat with Dean while he ate. He told him all about the Roadhouse, and that Ellen, Bobby, and Jo would be coming by that night to see him. Dean felt his spirits lift considerably, and not just because of the extra bacon. 

Castiel was happy to hear that Dean’s brother was staying in town to help out. He’d always been curious about him. He found himself becoming equally curious about someone else in Dean’s life, although he didn’t think he should ask. He wasn’t a good liar however, and Dean could tell something was on Castiel’s mind.

Once Dean pressed him enough, Castiel relented and asked, “Did your dad visit you yet? I just… I saw Sam’s here so I thought...” 

He immediately wished he hadn’t asked. Dean’s expression had become mask-like and Castiel could tell it was something he’d been trying not to think about.

“No,” Dean said, wiping his hands on a napkin. “It sounded like the hospital called him and he called Sam, but… well, Sam was a day’s drive away. My dad is four hours. If he wanted to be here, he’d be here.” Dean threw the napkin in the trash and started on his fries.

Castiel eyed him sadly. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Sensing Dean didn’t want to talk about it any more, he changed the subject to Ellen and Bobby.

Dean cheered up a bit at this. He told him all sorts of stories about Bobby, who sounded like more of a father than John. It was nice to hear, even if Castiel couldn’t help but feel the anger towards his own father shift onto Dean’s.

When Dr Hannah came in to check on Dean, she spotted Castiel there and smiled, but then her eyes fell on the empty burger wrappings and napkins in the trash. She eyed Castiel flatly. Both he and Dean feigned innocence. 

Hannah had her revenge, however. Before leaving for the night, she asked Castiel if he was going to stay in the room with Dean and if so, would he like the other bed put down. Castiel and Dean both flushed.

“Uh no, no, I’ve got to get back to my kids. Thank you. Hannah.” Castiel looked away.

Hannah smiled knowingly and left the room.

Castiel only left when Ellen, Bobby, and Jo arrived. Sam happened to show up around the same time with Garth, so Castiel left Dean to his family.

  
  


The next few days passed in a haze for Castiel. He’d insisted the kids go back to school, if only to maintain some normalcy in their lives, while Castiel and Jack moved the remains of their possessions to Donna’s cabin.

The cabin sat on the outskirts of Derby along the Little Arkansas River. It was a beautiful spot. The house was a two-story, log cabin home with plenty of space. Throughout the week a surprising amount of people came by to deliver food, groceries, and children’s supplies. He met more of his neighbors from Elmwood than when he’d been living there. Castiel found himself going from grief for his home to gratitude for his town’s generosity. It was somewhat exhausting.

There were some tough moments when the kids seemed to fully realize the extent of what they’d lost in the fire, but Castiel kept up everyone’s spirits by reminding them what they still had. Despite his own assurances, however, he found his own mood dropping lower than it had in years, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep from his children. 

Wednesday afternoon Castiel found himself alone for the first time in days as he set up the cabin’s bathroom for the kids. He was staring at a painting of waterfowl in the mirror’s reflection when a sound made him jump. The sink had turned on. The unexpected rush of water paralyzed Castiel, causing fear to spread through him like smoke, until he realized he’d accidentally nudged the faucet with his wrist. He turned the water off at once.

Reason returned to him, reminding him that they were no longer at Elmwood, but Castiel’s heart refused to stop pounding. He felt suddenly very heavy and sat down on the side of the tub, his head in his hands. 

For some reason, it wasn’t ghosts or demons that surfaced in his mind as he sat there, listening to the pounding of blood in his ears, it was something Garth said at the Roadhouse. Castiel realized in that moment that he’d been dwelling over it for a while.

_“You saved a lot of people by moving here. I’d never seen it so active, even with the other families. If it wasn’t for you, we might have never been able to put that house to rest.”_

He knew Garth had said it to give Castiel some rationale for what they went through, but it left him feeling worse than ever. Old questions merged with new ones, all wearing down his brain. Was his family some kind of beacon for the supernatural? Would they always bring out paranormal activity wherever they went? Was Castiel truly cursed? He didn’t know the answer to that question, and it made him doubt himself more than ever.

As the week went on, Dean continued to receive visitors. He was grateful for this, but he wished Castiel came by more often. Dean was happier than he’d been in years to have his brother by his side again, but in Sam’s absence he found himself thinking of things he wanted to say to Castiel; things he hadn’t said to anyone before. Whenever Castiel did come by however, the moment didn’t seem right, and Castiel couldn’t stay long anyway. Dean didn’t want to be selfish—he knew Castiel’s entire family was going through a lot at the moment—but he couldn’t help but feel like there was something amiss between them. He seemed to be coming by less and less each day. Dean didn’t talk to anyone about it. Not yet. 

By Thursday Dean’s cast was removed and he was given a hinged brace to wear. He was also advised to start physical therapy. Relieved he finally had a reason to get on Castiel’s case about something, he called him the moment Dr. Hannah left.

The phone rang for a while before Castiel answered it. Dean was worried he’d called at a bad time, but when Castiel answered he sounded calm.

“Hello, Dean,” came his usual greeting. 

Dean grinned to himself. Castiel's low, raspy voice always made him sound like a robot on the phone. Dean was used to it by now and found it endearing. “Hey Cas,” he replied. “Do you have a sec?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great actually,” Dean said. “I got my cast off finally. Hannah’s harping on about therapy though so I figured I’d give you a call. I don’t suppose you have any openings?” He asked knowingly.

Castiel paused on the other end. “For physical therapy?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I mean, incense and yoga might do the trick but I don’t think Hannah would be too keen on that.” He joked. That was the sort of thing Sam would do, come to think of it.

Castiel paused again.

Dean’s smile began to fade. “Cas, you there?”

“Yes, sorry,” Castiel said. “My schedule is a little full next week. But I can refer you. I know a few good…”

“Refer me?” Dean repeated. He wished he could see Castiel’s face. It was impossible to get a read on him over the phone, but he could have sworn Castiel sounded distant. “I thought… what’s going on?” He asked, trying to keep the accusation out of his voice.

Castiel sighed. “Dean…” he said quietly.

His tone made Dean’s heart stop.

“I think it would be best if you saw someone else.”

Seconds passed. They felt like hours to Dean. 

“You mean… another PT?” Dean asked, his throat feeling oddly tight.

This question was followed by the longest pause yet. Finally, Castiel replied, “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean heard him hang up and laid there, staring angrily at the bland hospital wall. Finally he put the phone down. The mere motion turned his anger to something a hundred times more unbearable. He screwed up his expression and tossed his phone across the room, pain coursing through him unlike anything a hammer could ever do to him.


	11. Chapter 11

October had arrived in Derby, Kansas, and the town was aglow with Autumn colors. The trees glimmered in shades of bright yellow and orange, and Halloween decorations were cropping up all along downtown Baltimore Avenue.

It had been one week since 525 Elmwood burned down and the Shurleys moved into Sherrif Donna Hanscum’s cabin. The general consensus seemed to be that the fire had been for the best, and the Shurley family would be compensated so they could buy a new home. Castiel was more than fine with this. He was happy, in fact, to hear that a memorial children’s playground was being proposed for the now empty lot on Elmwood. He knew Garth was already planning on blessing the land before construction could start.

Castiel hadn’t heard from or seen Garth since he spoke to Dean on Thursday. He supposed that was for the best. Thinking of either of them, especially Dean, made Castiel's already dispirited heart ache. The only thing keeping him together was his children, yet he could tell that both Jack and Charley were worried about him. 

The grief he was experiencing was unlike what he’d felt when Meg, and even Kelly, had died. This was a different kind of grief. This was grief for a person still living; a grief that Castiel had chosen to bear in spite of everything he wanted to keep someone safe; a grief for the pain he’d not only caused himself but someone he truly cared about.

Back in Wichita, Sam Winchester was exhausted. He had spent all weekend at the hospital. When he had returned that Thursday night to see Dean, he was surprised to find him in a solemn mood. Sam was no stranger to seeing his older brother struggle, but it had been a long time since anything seemed to shake him so much. It took Sam all weekend to get Dean to tell him what was wrong. It was only after Sam got angry with him for putting off finding a physical therapist that Dean finally broke down and told him about the phone call.

No matter what Sam said to him, it didn’t improve Dean’s mood at all. Sam was at a loss. He thought he understood what Castiel was thinking, but it didn’t stop him from being pissed, especially when Castiel refused to take his calls.

Monday morning Dean finally conceded to go see another physical therapist, if only to placate Nurse Tessa who had been giving him dire warnings all weekend about atrophying muscle, needing a wheelchair for the rest of his life, and a million other things Dean didn’t care enough about to understand.

Garth arrived to drive him, and a short while later he was helping Dean inside the physical therapy building down the street. Dean’s therapist was nowhere near as friendly a sight as Castiel. Dr. Uriel was a large, severe-looking man who Dean firmly believed enjoyed putting people in pain. He was, in Dean’s objective opinion, a complete ass. 

Dean wasn’t a stranger to physical pain, but he found his tolerance had lowered significantly since the surgery, and all he could think about was how much more endurable it would be if it was Castiel helping him through it. By the time the thirty minutes were over, Dean felt exhausted and humiliated. He was glad Garth had driven him and not Sam. He had never quite grown out of the need to always be the big brother to him, even in a brace and crutches.

“How was it?” Garth greeted Dean in the waiting room.

Dean gave him a weary look and Garth grimaced.

“That guy seemed like a total dick,” Garth said sympathetically, handing Dean his jacket.

“You have no idea,” Dean grunted.

They didn’t talk much as they walked down the long hallway to the front entrance. As they passed waiting room number 11 they heard a loud commotion. They turned just in time to see a small dark-haired blur run at Dean.

Dean nearly toppled over, but Garth caught him just in time. They both beamed at Meg.

“Dean!” she said happily, her voice muffled as she hugged Dean’s good leg.

“Hey Meg,” Dean smiled.

“Where’s your cast?” She looked up at him.

“I got it off,” he said. “But I saved your drawing.”

“Oh, good,” Meg said seriously.

Dean chuckled. 

“When are you coming to see us?” She asked, then added in a carrying whisper, “We have so much pie.”

The waiting room door opened again. This time Castiel stepped out into the hallway. He was wearing a beige coat over his dress shirt and slacks. “Meg, what are…” He stopped.

Garth’s eyes widened awkwardly. Dean stared at Castiel. 

Meg seemed to sense something was wrong and looked pleadingly at her father. “Daddy… can he stay?” She asked, as if she’d found a puppy on a street.

Dean didn’t say anything. He wanted Castiel to answer her. He wanted Castiel to be the one to explain to Meg why he couldn’t stay. But Castiel didn’t answer. Dean was alarmed to see how fatigued he looked. His blue eyes were grey, and they seemed to be staring into Dean’s soul.

“He can come in if he wants,” Castiel replied at last.

Garth looked at Dean. Dean’s surprise was drowned by Meg’s cheer. Despite weighing much less than them, Meg attempted to drag them both into Castiel’s waiting room.

“Meg,” Castiel said gently.

Dean could tell Castiel wanted to give him the option of refusing, but he didn’t refuse. He let Meg lead him and Garth into the empty waiting room. There was an awkward silence as Castiel entered behind them, a silence Meg was filling seamlessly with chatter.

“...Donna’s house has a jacuzzi and a big yard so I think we need to get a dog, a big one, so he can p…”

Garth cleared his throat. “Hey Meg,” he knelt in front of her, “I saw a vending machine back there. Want to go eat a bunch of candy?”

“Yeah!”

Garth glanced at Castiel. He smiled at him, so Garth took Meg’s hand and let her tell him all about the cabin while they walked down the hall.   
  


Castiel shifted awkwardly in the silence. He caught sight of other patients walking down the hall outside and offered to chat in his office. Dean shrugged but began walking into the therapy room all the same, hobbling along stubbornly. Castiel could tell he didn’t want any help.

Castiel shut the door behind them then led Dean into his connected office. Dean sat himself in the chair beside Castiel’s desk with a huge effort. Castiel was watching him sadly.

“You’re angry,” Castiel said.

Dean gave him a sarcastic look.

Castiel sighed. He sat down opposite Dean, barely looking him in the eye. “Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Dean stared stonily at him. “Well, you did.”

Castiel’s eyes fell resignedly on Dean’s knee brace. “I know.”

“I’m not talking about my knee, Cas,” Dean leaned forward. “I’m not talking about the ghosts or the demon or any of that. I’m not even talking about not trusting me when you didn’t know who I was.”

Castiel glanced at him. Dean’s green eyes were burning into his.

“I told you who I was. What I did. And you…” Dean’s fierce gaze faltered, but he looked at Castiel stubbornly, “...you left. You stopped answering my calls, you stopped visiting me, you made a decision without talking to me at all...”

“I made that decision for you…”

“Who asked you to?” Dean demanded. “I hunt ghosts, Cas. This ain’t my first rodeo. So if you want to keep me away from your family to keep them safe, fine. I get it. Hell, I probably agree. But don’t tell me you’re doing it for me.”

Castiel stared at Dean, looking hurt. “Dean,” he rasped. “That’s not… that’s not what I’m trying to do…”

“Then what are you doing?” Dean demanded, the hurt reflected in his eyes. “Talk to me.”

Castiel put his head in his hands. When he looked back up, Dean was once again startled to see him so exhausted. He looked like he’d aged ten years.

“My family… we have a history,” he said quietly. “My father believed he was a… a prophet. My brothers were… they were like your brother. And now Charley is...” he took a steadying breath, “I’m the reason the house became so active. I know that now. I’m the reason everything happened at Elmwood. You will never be safe with me. I’ve lost two wives, Dean. I can’t do that to you, too.”

Dean stared at him, losing himself for a moment in those light, grieving eyes. 

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice quiet but severe, “None of that was your fault.”

Castiel looked away from him at once, but Dean continued.

“You told me what happened to Meg, and to Kelly. That wasn’t your fault. And as for me? I’m the one who came to your house. I’m the one who came back. That was my choice. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he said strongly.

Castiel’s watery eyes moved back up to Dean, reading him. “And if it happens again? If the next house we move into is…”

“Cas,” Dean said incredulously, “I hunt ghosts. If you don’t move into the next haunted house, I’ll find it anyway.”

Castiel smiled, but it died a second later. He wiped his eyes, looking idly at Dean’s knee. He looked deep in thought. At last he said, “I don’t suppose, after everything I did, you’d still want me to be your therapist?”

Dean caught Castiel’s eye. “Cas,” he said seriously, “I want you to be so much more than my therapist.”

There was a grin hiding in Dean’s expression, and it made Castiel smile weakly. He reached for Dean’s hand and Dean let him take it. Dean gave it a firm squeeze.

“Well, I’ll have the front desk switch you over,” Castiel said at last.

”I thought you were full.”

Castiel pretended to think about it. “I think I know a patient of mine, a very recent patient, who could handle a few weeks off.”

Dean grinned. He did the familiar glance up from Castiel’s lips and, when Castiel smiled at him, Dean leaned forward. Castiel’s smile warmed and he met Dean in a soft kiss. Dean’s lips were warm and he smelled like summer. Castiel felt a weight in his chest shift, becoming light enough to float away. When the kiss faded they stayed close, their foreheads pressed against each other and their smiles infectious.

Suddenly they heard the door open in the therapy room and Meg call out, “Daddy, we got nougat!”

They thought they heard Garth whisper in a happy yet somewhat frantic voice, “Meg! Don’t go in there…!”

Castiel and Dean smiled at each other.

“You sure this is what you want?” Castiel asked, giving him a ‘this-is-my-life’ kind of look.

Dean smiled serenely. “More than anything.”

Castiel beamed at him. Then he raised Dean’s hand to his lips and kissed it.


	12. Chapter 12

Sheriff Hanscum’s cabin was a cozy yet spacious home nestled in a wooded clearing in the outskirts of Derby. As the Hanscum family’s vacation home, it bore all the signs of being used to host large gatherings. It had a fully furnished basement, lots of cooking supplies, and countless framed photographs. Outside there was a jacuzzi, a full bar, and a large patio space for entertaining. It was more than Castiel could have dreamed of, but the cabin’s best quality by far was that it was completely free of ghosts.

A month had passed since the events of Elmwood Avenue. The destruction of number 525 seemed to have touched the lives of everyone in Derby, Kansas. The empty lot between 523 and 527 was now a memorial playground, cleansed in secret by Garth, and Castiel and his children visited it in a sort of cathartic farewell to the place where they had been terrorized, and saved. Charley had ceased sleepwalking since then and no longer dreamt of the man in the small room. Kaia’s necklace had even been recovered from the wreckage and Claire managed to return it. It seemed, at least for the time being, that everything had returned to normal. Or whatever normal the Shurley’s were accustomed to. There were a few changes to their lives, however. 

In an attempt to either make up for or thank the Shurley family for what happened, the community came together to raise money to build a brand new house built for Castiel and his family. They also kept Donna Hanscum’s cabin kitchen stocked with plenty of food, and Mortimer, Jody, and Donna had all become regular dinner guests. 

They weren’t the only regular guests, either. After Castiel made things up with Dean in his office, Dean started coming by for much more than half-hour therapy sessions. In fact, when Sam and Jess came by to help Dean with his recovery, Dean let them use his apartment and stayed in the cabin with Castiel.

The kids all loved Dean, and Castiel forgot how much he missed having someone around to talk to. It had been so long since he could rely on someone other than himself, and it was more gratifying than he could express. Castiel frequently came home to a warm meal, all of the kids’ tended to and happy, and the prospect of another enjoyable night relaxing with Dean by his side. 

It hadn’t been an entirely easy month, however. Castiel found himself waking up in a cold sweat every night and flinching at unexpected noises. Dean was often there to soothe him, but it wasn’t until Castiel began noticing similar symptoms in his children that he finally took Dean’s advice and found a family counselor. 

Dr. Mia Vallens was wonderful. Charley, Gabe, and Meg all liked her, and she even managed to make Claire look forward to going by approving of the idea to get a family dog. 

By mid-October, the kids had returned to a normal school schedule, Castiel had returned to full-time work, and everything seemed to be falling back into place just in time to celebrate Meg’s birthday.

As per usual, Meg’s birthday party involved Halloween decorations, costumes, and a lot of cake. This year the menu also included pie, thanks to Dean’s enthusiastic approval and Mortimer divulging his family’s secret recipe for bourbon apple pie.

So a week before Halloween the cabin was decorated and full of people. The pie almost didn’t make it to the party, however. While family and friends all hung out on the back porch, enjoying some of the last breezy sunshine of the year, Castiel came inside for more glasses and caught Dean about to put a whipped cream covered finger in his mouth.

For someone wearing an apron decorated with happy bumblebees, Castiel looked quite ferocious. Dean froze. Castiel rose his eyebrows. Then Dean flashed him a cheeky grin and popped his finger in his mouth.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Castiel grumbled, going to the cupboard for glasses.

Dean chuckled. He eyed the pie fleetingly, then moved over to Cas. He no longer needed crutches or a knee brace, although his gait was still a little stiff. He was wearing a well fitted Batman costume that Castiel had greatly approved of. Castiel smiled as he felt Dean kiss the back of his neck. He smelled like whipped cream.

“You still have frosting on you,” Dean realized, putting his hand on Castiel’s elbow. “Hang on.”

Castiel smiled to himself as Dean hovered over him. Castiel had been all but covered in the pink frosting which now adorned Meg’s cake. When Dean had finished, he looped his arms around Castiel’s waist and smiled in his ear.

“That’s better.”

Castiel grinned. “You smell like pie.”

Dean buried his lips in Castiel’s shoulder to hide the scent. Castiel laughed.

“How’s your knee today?” he asked, putting his hands over Dean’s.

“Great,” Dean said quickly. “I think a few more therapy sessions like last night…”

Castiel chuckled. It definitely wasn’t therapy they were doing last night. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Therapy?”

Dean’s grin was growing. “Actually, my knee is starting to hurt a little, maybe we could squeeze in a quick therapy session on the counter over th…”

Castiel turned in Dean’s arms to cut him off, but he was grinning. Dean was smiling at him, his green eyes dark in the cool shade of the cabin’s kitchen. Dean leaned in and kissed Castiel, sharing with him the sinfully sweet taste of stolen pie. The sounds of talking and laughter from outside disappeared.

“Hey Cas, I…” Sam Winchester had walked in, looking to help carry the glasses outside, but he stopped dead when he saw Dean and Castiel. It sounded as if he’d stopped his girlfriend, Jess, from entering, too, and they both retreated outside.

Dean grinned through the kiss.

Sam and Jess hopped back outside, both masking embarrassed grins as they rejoined the party. It was a crisp Fall day and the hot tub was on, a patio bonfire had been lit, and everyone was talking warmly to one another. The patio had been fully decorated for Halloween. There were streamers shaped like bats and witches, several handmade Jack-o-lanterns flickering devilishly, and green and purple lights hung everywhere. There was a monstrous bowl of candy by the sliding glass doors, provided by the kids’ uncle, Gabriel. 

The kids were all in costumes, and some of the adults had joined in on the fun. Jody had been bullied into wearing a matching greaser outfit with Donna after Donna learned that Jody was planning on going as an ‘off-duty sheriff’. They had both changed however and were laughing beside Garth in the hot tub. Garth’s wife Bess was holding their infant daughter, Gertie, who was watching the bubbles with unveiled curiosity. They’d arrived as Shaggy and Velma, with Gertie in a tiny Scooby-Doo costume. 

Jody’s daughter Alex and her friend Patience had come with, and they were chatting with Claire and Kaia. Claire had finished her zombie costume and had painted realistic wounds on her face as well as Kaia’s, who was also in zombified clothes. Alex was dressed as Bloody Mary, and Patience was Dorothy from Oz, complete with a little stuffed dog. 

The girls' attention was quickly stolen by a commotion in the leaf-filled yard. A short man was play-wrestling with the newest member of the Shurley family—a large, lanky Mastiff puppy named Einstein—while Charley, Gabe, and Meg were laughing and running after them. Gabriel had arrived as a ‘vampire’ which included a traditional cape and fangs but also a startling amount of glitter which spread everywhere. His cape had been torn off by the puppy already, whose bee costume was crooked. Meg had wanted to be a princess, but when she saw Claire’s zombie make-up she wanted that, too, so she was a zombie princess. Gabe was a werewolf, and Charley chose to be something called a wendigo. 

Castiel and Dean finally came back outside carrying glasses. Castiel avoided Sam’s eye, who was grinning at them, and caught sight of Gabriel in the yard.

“Be careful, he’s a baby,” Castiel called over to them.

“I am being careful!” Gabriel yelled back.

Castiel smiled slightly. “I was talking to Einstein.”

Gabriel gave him a mock laugh, and was lunged upon by Einstein, followed by Gabe and Meg.

Jack and his friend Samandriel were watching them alongside Sam and Jess. Jack had dressed up as a cowboy, although Samandriel had come straight from work and was in scrubs. Sam had never liked Halloween much, but to Dean’s amusement Jess seemed to have convinced Sam to dress up with her. Jess was Wonder Woman and Sam had a Superman shirt on under his jacket. Jess kept putting his fake glasses back on him and laughing when they slid down his nose. Jack had taken to Sam very quickly, and Castiel couldn't help but smile every time he saw his eldest getting along with Dean's family.

Beside them were a group of Castiel’s friends from the hospital chatting animatedly to each other, Tessa and Hannah amongst them. To Castiel’s great surprise Dr. Naomi stopped by to drop off a gift for Castiel’s new house. Since the house would be finished just after Halloween, several people had brought housewarming gifts to the party. At least ten of Castiel’s old neighbors had stopped by as well, including Mortimer and his sister, a tall, imposing-looking woman named Billie. Like her brother, she was much kinder than she looked. Many people assumed they’d dressed as undertakers, a recurring speculation that made Castiel smile as he knew for a fact they hadn’t dressed up at all.

“Dean,” Tessa had separated from the other nurses to greet them. “You’re looking better.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, setting the glasses by the punch bowl. “Castiel is a miracle worker. The things he can do with his hands…”

Castiel elbowed him.

Tessa smiled slyly. “I’m sure."

“How’s everyone enjoying the party?” Castiel cleared his throat.

“Oh, I think they’re having fun,” she said, looking back as Dr. Balthazar went over to chat up Gabriel. “I can’t believe Naomi came. You really were her favorite.”

Castiel could tell there was an unasked question in that statement. Sure enough, he caught Tess eying him curiously.

“I don’t suppose there’s any truth to the rumor?” She asked quietly. “That you’re coming back to the hospital? Now that you’ve got a new house and… well...” She looked in amusement at Dean.

Dean looked to Cas in surprise. Castiel was still smiling, however. “No, I’m afraid not.”

Tessa looked a little disappointed.

“I thought about it, but… that’s not where my life is headed anymore.” Castiel looked at Dean.

Dean grinned and put an arm around him.

"Well," Tessa said at last. "I'm happy for you, Cas. I really am. Cheers," and she held up her cup of punch in a toast.

As dusk fell, Castiel and Dean brought out the desserts and they all gathered around to sing happy birthday to Meg. As Castiel watched his daughter blow out the candles and felt Dean’s arm around sneak him, he couldn’t remember ever feeling happier. He recalled the feeling of pride and contentment he’d experienced when he first moved into the house on Elmwood, but he realized now that the house wasn’t the source of that feeling. To Castiel, home had never been a place—it was people. It was Jack and Charley, Gabe and Claire, Meg and all of his family there with him. It was Dean, Garth, Mortimer, and Sam. It was in the two sheriffs and all his neighbors and friend who had stood by him and helped him get back on his feet. Even as his new house was being built a few miles away, he felt at home exactly where he stood, and he knew he’d be able to carry that feeling to any place he moved to. He was grateful that his family had escaped the fate of the Bishops in 525 Elmwood Avenue and was able to put their story to rest, and he knew that no matter what story came next, his family, both new and old, would face it together.

The End


End file.
